What in the world was she doing here? There was no sense in which she belonged. She felt like she'd been Photoshopped  into the scene. Her heart was throbbing. She pictured him only a few weeks before, lying on the bed across from her, his arms across her ankles.. He cared about her, he'd loved her once - so much he'd brought a ring and thought he wanted to marry her. 

"Go home Inês, I don't love you any longer" she heard his voice as he look away.
She stood frozen and crossed her arms, clutching herself protectively.
Since she knew him, and she knew him since she was twelve, he had never called her by her own name. She had always been "Bee", or "Beezy" or "Mims" or something thoughtful, even when he was mad at her.
She got it all in a single frame and the picture of it all was devastating. She felt like a child. No. Smaller than a child and less valuable. She felt like a mouse. No. Smaller than a mouse and less alive. Her life seemed so small and crumpled that she could shoot it with a straw like a spitball.

'If you wanted to break my heart there were a thousand ways to do it. But you didn't have to purpose to her to hurt me, you didn't have to stoop so low.
No, don't marry her M.! Am I crazy? Do you not feel what I have felt everyday that we were apart for the last three years? Because I have felt that there is a vital piece of me that is missing. And I tried to fill it, I tried to fill it with school, and friends and music and it stayed empty every time up until you kissed me and my entire universe would snap back into focus.
You can try to convince yourself that you guys belong together, but I have seen it in your eyes last night, I have seen it in your eyes every night we were together, every day you woke up early to come to see me, in every demand you made overseas.. And I can see it right now. And I know you couldn't possibly have that with anyone else. Call me a dreamer, I don't care.. because I know the truth. You don't love her the way you love me.'

As the words came out of my mind there was no turning back. I had told him what my heart shouted deep inside and I knew I was right when he closed his eyes and turned away. I knew him like the back of my hand.

She missed him and she couldn't keep sailing on that silence ship, so she said the first thing that came through her lips.
"Do you know when I'm really happy? At Sunday, 9am. At least once in a month, I wake up really early and dress myself really quickly and go straight to the airport. And then, somewhere through the morning, the sun hits that place where I usually stand in and I am drawing people leaving. I believe that's when I'm more content, when I'm doing what I like in my favorite place in the world. Although, that's probably when sadness can't keep shut inside, but art needs emotion right? And I am only really good when I am sad."
He took his eyes from the road for a second to look at her eyes.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I think I am the happiest when I am driving. Some nights I just like to drive around, music up, windows down.. though not to fast, just driving.. feeling the air in my hair.. Some nights I drive up to thirty kilometers."
"Wow, that is serious gas money spending! Do you know that there are actually pills for insomnia?" she joked around for old time's sake.
His eyes seemed tired and sincere. "Maybe, but you know something? I always drive to the same place."
"Oh please, do not tell the words "strip club" in that sentence or I will laugh my eyes of."
He suddenly stopped the car on the sidewalk of the road.
"Beezy, no and I am serious." he took a deep breath, " I go straight to JFK's parking lot and I stand there till the sun comes up. It's usually on Sunday's, about 4am."
"Why would you do so?"
"That's where I can feel you closer when I am gone. That's when I can feel that there is still a string that still connects our veins and organs. We have the same holes in our hearts, you and me."

She looked down and closed her eyes for a second.

Enquanto eu continuar presa a ti, vamos ficar os dois aqui, assim, quietinhos, confortáveis, protegidos.. Tão protegidos que vamos acabar por ficar pequeninos, mingar até, secando, deixando de viver.