Zagreus

You walked toward your friends in silence, as if an invisible rope were stretched between you, and any unnecessary movement could cause it to snap with a deafening crack. The street was damp, the streetlights dim, as if they themselves were tired of this autumn. You wrapped yourself in your coat, feeling the cold creeping not from without, but from within—from that place where the expectation had once resided: "Now we'll make peace. Now he'll say something simple, but real." But he didn't. He just walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead, as if the city were his enemy and you a random fellow traveler.

He paused for a second in front of the door, as if gathering the strength to put on the right mask. You did the same: straightened your shoulders, forced the corners of your lips up, turning your smile into a neat, meaningless curve.

The apartment smelled of warm milk and baby powder, the air thick with a tenderness that was too abundant here—it settled on your skin and made your own emptiness even heavier. The newborn slept in the cradle, occasionally twitching in his sleep, as if checking to make sure everything was in place. Your friend was beaming, her eyes full of that same tiredness that still manages to be happy. You looked at her and felt something tighten inside: you wanted this too—not so much a child, but the right to be tired in a good way, from something bright. But you couldn't say it out loud. You didn't even allow yourself to say the words, as if saying them would make them true, and the truth was too heavy right now.

At the table, you caught yourself laughing at jokes that weren't funny, nodding where you weren't listening. He drank, pouring himself glass after glass, and with each sip, his face became a little less tense, as if the alcohol were dissolving the prickly armor he'd been wearing for the past few months. You wanted to get drunk, too. You wanted the world to become softer, blurrier, so you didn't have to try so hard to keep your back straight and smile like everything was fine. But you didn't drink.