an apology

"i'm sorry." it fell at her feet with a dull thud, like a brick thrown through a window by an already disappearing messenger.

she thought about someone who'd recently told her he admired his father for being the same dependable person both in his public life as in his private one, and she wondered, who among us have such unapologetic identities? to wear the same face with strangers as the one confronted with in the space of solitude? is this even a trait for noble pursuit? or did she question its worth from filtering everything through eyes that have always been secretive and guarded?

"i'm sorry." she inspected this branch of thorns masquerading as if from an olive tree. who among us are so undisguised and open?

that night, she dreamed about spending the holidays with his family. she usually dreaded this time of year, would be wrapped in a fire blanket of melancholy. in the dream, he was angry with her and left her alone all christmas eve to have fun with a friend. and on christmas day, the family tried to console her and entice her to join them at dinner. his sister stroked her hair. but he didn't come, not even to say i'm sorry, because he wouldn't have meant it. and even though she'd woken up crying and angry, underneath it all, she missed him, even though he'd hurt her. because she realized she'd been glad just to have seen him, if only in a dream.