Cry Wolf.

It is always the same. A bit of banter, a few giggles and promises made in the name of friendship or the dreaded L-word. The definitive, “you’ll see” and the waiting for something that would be nothing. It was a pattern, like some child calling wolf, over and over again. I always waited, always thought that this time would be the time she would come through. I never won, never read those words of need or want. Once again the story reset and instead of moving ahead in the narrative, it stagnated and repeated.

I can only blame coincidence, because there was always a reason why it could not be shared. Whether illness or time, the reasons themselves became repetitive. I was blunt with my own need to know, but in the end it was always taken for granted. I am weak you see and I reach out and be the person I always am. She never sees that inside I am broken. she never sees that she could fix that part left in tatters.

“Wolf!”

And I just smile and let it go. Does she get that my smile has become my own wolf. If she could see that behind it lay a truth that she will never understand. Or worse, she does, but can not move to change. This is what she does, this is why she always makes me less. Just once I want a wolf at my door, and finally a promise fulfilled.

But there are no wolves in this story, only imagined and forgotten.

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