Last night in my dreams, you came to my door. You smiled, and silently handed me a stack of letters I had sent to you. You turned and left. Upset that you could effortlessly return the tokens of our friendship, I ran after you.
Wait! I called after you. In the soundless world of dreaming, I could feel my throat clench as if I were screaming the word. How could you? I wanted to know. You told me something without dialogue that somehow explained away the offense and made me feel better. We've never really needed words between us, anyway.
Later, we walked together through an empty airport in the middle of night, and I left for Winnipeg.
I can still feel the word wait suspended in my lungs.