I look back, just once, because I know she will never look as far back as me. As far back as the dankest corners of the universe that smell of shame. The woman, my uteral companion, is across the street and worlds away. Games of shadow puppets hover on the bleak horizon of the past. She saw me sink into a perennial past full of evil. She got hurt. She ran.
I’m left with the frozen recesses of Neptune. She’s basking in the spring glow of Jupiter, moving ever closer to the sun. Divergence. Parallels of glory and misery.