The sand cracked, splayed out, under the clear blue of the evening and the drying rain.
The smell of cooking chicken was strange, tinny. Her mouth watered, regardless.
Despite all the motion in the world, despite the swirl of his clock, he couldn't hug her; he couldn't even open his mouth.
Fingers trembling, he called her up. He took a moment, then said, "Look, I love you. You love her. I love her too. She's conflicted. She doesn't have to be, right?"
"What're you saying?" The woman on the other end of the line asked.
Grinning as the idea took form, he replied, "We could move in together. Leave your roommates, and lets all move in together, the three of us, somewhere."
This broken nose, of all the broken noses he'd ever had, this one felt the best.