"Bliss?"

There is a quiet murmur as Dexter's hand raps against the bathroom door. I hold my breath amidst the thick air as I had just completed a shower, water sticking to my body like cool sweat and a damp towel twisting around my body. "Yeah?"

I can see my eyes in the fogging mirror, so blue and bright and sharp like pieces of glass. "I think I love her."

We both knew who her was supposed to be. "You've said that before."

"But . . ."

I hesitate. "But what?"

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

I stay quiet.

"Bliss?" He asks again.

"Yeah?" I'm breathless.

"I'm sorry," he says. "But we have to go back. I don't have much time."

I can't deny him when he says things like that.