We can still be friends, Mark said. His voice was hopeful, the kind of hope that felt like a heavy blanket on a humid day. I mean, we know each other better than anyone. It would be a waste to just… stop.
The coffee was lukewarm, much like the conversation. Across the scratched oak table, Mark was doing that thing with his thumb where he traced the rim of his mug, over and over. It was a nervous habit Elias used to find endearing. Now, it just felt like a countdown. let-s-not-stay-friends
Elias stood up and pulled his coat from the back of the chair. He didn’t wait for Mark to respond. He knew if he stayed, the resolve would crumble. He knew the pull of familiarity was a powerful, dangerous thing. We can still be friends, Mark said