Wesley asks me to hand him one of the flyers beside me.
They're for a yard sale in the neighbourhood.
I hand it over.
"Thanks, Fliss."

~

I pulled back from Peter's neck slowly.
It was three months into dating and he'd just muttered a nickname through a moan.
"Fliss?" I repeated with a light chuckle.
"Yeah. Is that okay?"
He smiled at me.
It was kind, hopeful.
I nodded. "Yes."

~

"You alright?" Wes asks with a hand on my bicep.
"Please don't call me that."
I snapped.
I shouldn't have.
Wes couldn't have known how much pain those five little letters cause when they're not said by the one person I so desperately wish could again.