The August air suffocated me just like his words used to.
It was all too new, I was alone, and walking into a room full of people. My lungs were jumping out of my chest and I kept my hands by my side so you couldn't see them shake.
I walked into the chapel, took my seat, and told myself to not look as empty as I felt.

And then you walked in. My eyes latched onto you because it was the first glimpse of goodness that they had seen in so long. You sat next to me.

You were see-through. Not invisible, definitely not; but transparent. I saw your heart before I saw you. I had been staring at the same white walls I built around myself since he left and then you came, knocked them down, and showed me what it looks like to be open, exposed... free.

I think I was see-through too, but when you looked at me you just saw the spine that was barely holding me up instead of breath and being. I was running out of life, and you didn't think twice about breathing yours into me.

Please, whatever you do, don''t run out of air.