"You'll never say it, will you?"

"Say..what?"

"What do you think?" She is exasperated, hands on her hips, eyes looking...sore, maybe.

I can never tell.

I should be able to, by now.

"That? Those words?"

She makes a face, and it's like a bridge collapsing. "Those words. You make it sound like they're...they're... like they're something bad."

I can't even think them, let alone say them. I mean, I do, of course I do, but... No.

"They aren't." I attempt. "And...you already know..."

"Do I?" She's staring now. "I did. I did know, but now...I'm not so certain. I...I just don't know. Not anymore. I can't remember the last time I did."

"Let me show you." The words come out before I can think of them, and I'm holding her wrists, taking her hands and bringing them to my lips, kissing the tiny fists she's making, where her knuckles cross. "You know. You know that... You know...how...how I feel."

"You don't need to love me to do that." She says softly, weakly, like she doesn't know whether to fight or not (fight me? fight for me?)

"But you can feel that I do." I'm holding her wrists close to my chest, as if she'll be able to feel it through my heart. Feel what I can't say.

She shakes her head, pulls away, drops me.