choose your own

I'm falling into a depression, she said. I'm this close. She held up her fingers. And I feel like I should tell you. That I might go away for a little bit. Yanno?

And maybe he said, Fuck that. Fuck depression. Show it to me. Drag it out here in the light where I can see it and I'll stomp its face. Tell me what it looks like and I'll help you kill it.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he just referred her to a competent health care provider.

So maybe she drifted away on a wave of resentment. Maybe anger kept her afloat for a few days, despite how heavy it is. But in the end the loneliness got to her and she ditched the raft. Swam for shore. Collapsed exhausted, unsure. But at least not alone anymore.

Or maybe she accepted his limitations, knowing everyone has them. Being all too familiar with her own.

And maybe the threat passed. Moving over them, darkening the sky like an eclipse. Maybe afterwards they found themselves blinking in the sunlight, momentarily dazzled by the relief of being back at the start.