The Static Between Heartbeats

Rain-slicked streets… a city breathing neon. He said he liked the way I looked in white, but then again, he likes everything mirrored back at him.
The collar felt too tight tonight, almost like a cage, and these jeans...a dare. A foolish game of push and pull with shadows that aren't mine.
A flashbulb memory – his hand brushing my spine, the ghost of whiskey on his breath. Just static.
But sometimes…sometimes the static holds a melody only two can hear. He’s late. Of course he is. It doesn't matter. The walk was good for me to clear my head and figure things out
A text message vibrates in my pocket, but I don't look. Not yet.

Editor: Kaleidoscope