She mumbled something in her sleep and adjusted herself slightly. Her head rested against his shoulder. Her breath had a slow and steady rhythm. He carefully turned the page of the book he was reading. The album he had been listening to had ended at least a half hour ago, but he resisted the urge to put on a new one. He looked over at her and then back to his book. He smiled and started to hum a nameless tune.

She threw the book at him. Her aim was always poor when she was angry; the book sailed past him by a wide margin and slammed against the wall. Their calendar fell forlornly to the ground. He bent over and picked it up as a CD cover flew through the place his head had just occupied. He closed his eyes at the sound. Shattered plastic rained down upon him. He rose and placed the calendar on a nearby table. He brushed some loose bits of plastic from his shoulders. She leered at him savagely. He smiled and winked at her. She roared and charged.

She looked at him, but never when he could see. She studied the angle of his chin. She reflected on the various light sources and how they reflected off his hair. She wondered what lay inside of his eyes, but she refused to look him in the eye. She wasn’t scared, not of him. She just didn’t trust anyone who wanted to look her in the eyes. He stole a glance at her when she was unprepared and lost in her reverie. He smiled his best smile. She swore and quickly turned away.

He walked along the beach in full dress, including shoes. He kicked at a stone. It skidded ahead, tumbling end over end to where she might have been walking. He could picture her form moving, unknowingly inviting and unconsciously delighting every part of him. She should have been there with him. If only he had done things differently. He would have, if only he had known. But known what? If hindsight was supposed to be 20/20, why did he feel like he needed glasses in order to see their past clearly? He smiled bitterly at the thought. His vision of her faded away as the ocean washed over the solitary stone, leaving it half buried and with no evidence of its past travels.

He twisted in the wind. Memories of her came fast and furious, unwanted gales of conflicting thoughts and unfortunate desires. He wanted nothing more than to never hear her voice again, even if he could hear her voice emanating from within his conscious thought. He ached to hold her close; his mind couldn’t push her away. He felt broken, used, and abused. He wondered where she was and what she was thinking. He felt like drinking. A smile was missing from his lips.

She saw a stranger pass that looked vaguely familiar. She couldn’t place him, but she could swear that she knew him in some past life or something. She shook her head and continued down the sidewalk towards her car. She hummed a tune to herself without thinking as memories of the dreamy past evoked a smile upon her lips.