she asked me to stay. all beneficial things come with a price, don't they? you take all the positive things and all the negative things, and sometimes you actually do a little better than break even. sometimes, they Fit right next to you. sometimes you leave because it's not uncomfortable at all, rather, it's disturbing that you want to stay, because you've forgotten what that feels like and don't want to deal with the ramifications of what that means. you leave because it's too soon to be scared, but you're older now, and you're scared, even though you know better. don't be afraid, you tell yourself, and you wish you had a cigarette for a second - any distraction - , and pull them closer, and kiss them softly, and you shiver a bit. and realise that you're synchronising. doesn't make sense? does it have to? it never does.
it's always explosive.
it always feels good.
everybody always runs.

 

 

  
"Just give me one sliver of trust.  Please!  Why is that so impossible for you?" "You're going to have to trust us, though," she added. Her initial statement seemed direct enough, like she already knew what I was there for, but I also realized that it was just vague enough that it could have been some sort of weird psychology thing, trying to get me to say what I was doing there without actually having to ask.

"Who's us?" I asked, concerned about her repeated referrals to herself as a group.

"Synchro Systems, of course. This is the main research facility, as you are aware."

"I've had a few doubts. My friends upstairs..." I began, but she interrupted me.

"We are taking care of them," she stated, firmly, standing up. She was almost as tall as me, easily approaching six feet not counting the heels that she was wearing. I didn't pick up on any malice in her tone, though, so I didn't worry about what she meant by 'taking care of'.

She walked around the desk and approached me. "Will you come with me?" she asked. "Please," she added, almost as an afterthought.