Three
Blue in white eyes stare across the table at him. Hair, perfect to the last curl falls down around her shoulders. Skin smooth as marble and dark as ebony keep his gaze for a moment, then away.
Chills.
3 o'clock coffee
The same stable as always, but the company’s changed.
Were once two lovers exchanged sly glances and obseen promises now sit two strangers.
He knows her next move. Always a cup of chai to his coffee.
“Chai”.
“Coffee”.
Always.
The coffee doesn't help the cold.
Jackson looks at her. Back from the other side, she stares as if looking back into it.
Imperfect by her perfection.
The lie was always complete. Maybe a leather jacket can stop bullets.
He laughs at the unfunnyness of it.
No, the necromancy of steel and surgery made her a new body to help her forget she ever crossed over.
Too bad it doesn't help him forget the days when her smile could light up a room.
Because now it’s just 17 muscles.
Their eyes lock, and for a moment he thinks he doesn't see the girl he fell in love with so many years ago. He just sees a stare as blank as the suit’s sunglasses looking back.
The bastard said she would come back and it would be great again.
Now she’s alive and he remembers.
The suit never told him how great it would be. Only dreams and hopes sang that message.
Jackson could have his cake and eat it too as long as he learned the new truth day by day.
She’s the same as before, but he can never look back.