| Woven by Kellyann Zuzulo |
years? I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
His words pleased me even as the muffled feeling
began to press into my forehead once more. His
face was inches from mine. I tilted my head back
to gaze into eyes like sapphires. Inexplicably, I
wanted to stay like that forever. We seemed to
both hold our breaths. The air between us was
clear, as though not even the winter chill could
keep our mouths from merging.
My lips parted. “Kevin,” I whispered, suddenly
self-conscious. I forced a laugh that came out
sounding halfway between a sob and a hacking
cough. I tried to pull away. “I’m fine.” I gestured in
the opposite direction. “I don’t live far. I can call my
mom.”
“But I live closer.” He pointed at the building
behind us. Turning my head, I glimpsed a shiny
black door with an arched window at the top and a
large round brass knob at the center.
A sudden spasm in my back took my breath away.
I stretched out an arm to find support and found
the solid cord of his forearm steadying me.
And just in time, because the familiar shaky
pain trembled into my chest. The muffle of
unconsciousness slid completely over my head,
down my shoulders, and wrapped my legs, easing
me into oblivion.
AFTER
Buttery biscuit was the scent that welcomed me
back to consciousness. Toasty and comforting, the
smell evoked aprons and steamy kitchen windows.
My eyes fluttered open as I raised myself to a
sitting position.
I’d been arranged beneath a massive and
unbelievably soft blanket on a leather sofa.
A window wall filled one side of the sparsely
furnished room with the turquoise light of a city
nightscape. The Schuylkill River glimmered far
106 | www.BTSeMag.com
below. Pinpricks of twinkling car lights on the
distant expressway indicated an upper-floor
apartment.
The encounter with Kevin f