Canyons, Continued

Continuing this story:

He tosses his covers back and walks to the kitchen; hesitates, then flips the light on. Water; cleansing, freezing the lump threatening to overwhelm him and the life he has made. He holds the glass to his forehead, focusing on that point where flesh meets glass, feeling the liquid coolness travel down his body for one long moment. He finishes the water and goes back to bed. Even before he has pulled the covers back over him, he knows that she is awake beside him, her silence accusing him in the night, her hunched shoulder blades pregnant with tears prepared to fall. This is the moment, the moment they have been speeding towards since he first caught sight of her that night in the bar. And here, now, in this moment, he begins to feel real once more.

"Are you awake?"

Another lie. He knows she is. But this is the only way they can communicate, the only way they have ever been able to. She knows the moment is approaching, can feel its proximity, has been seeing it on the edges of her vision for the past week and yet cannot bring herself to speak, cannot seem to remember how to move her lips, tongue and breath to form words.

"Mmmm?"

"We need to talk."