In the Palm of my Hand

Caleb sits in the dark, the cold glow of his phone casting sharp shadows across his face. His breath is slow, controlled, but his grip on the dog tag around his neck tightens. The metal is cool against his skin, grounding him, keeping him from slipping too deep into the thoughts circling his mind.

She’s there. Not with him, not really. But close enough that he can see her, feel the distance between them like a hand around his throat.

He scrolls through the images slowly, tracing the lines of her face, the way she tilts her head, the softness of her eyes when she thinks no one is looking. A moment frozen in time. A moment that doesn’t belong to him, but one he takes anyway.

Each photo tugs at something deep inside him, easing the ache for a second before making it worse. She’s out there, somewhere, living her life. And he tells himself this is just to keep her safe. That’s why he watches. That’s why he makes sure no one gets too close.

But he knows, deep down, that’s only half the truth.

She lingers in his mind like a song he can’t stop hearing… constant, inescapable, and never quiet enough. It should have faded by now. It should have lost its grip.

It hasn’t.

The screen flickers. He exhales, fingers brushing against his lips, lost in a moment that stretches too long. Would she be afraid, if she knew?

Would she run?

----

Pic credit: xhs 9468794864

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