She was Sherlock and I was Watson. There was something there, but only she ever knew what it was, so I was left hoping she never fully figured it out, because then I would cease to be a mystery. Puzzles are never interesting again once you solve them.
Even each little game in itself, each person, was just one piece in the larger puzzle that was her life there with us. It was a well-known but forever unspoken pact between all of her satellites that once she unraveled the mysteries of her little solar system, she would leave. Our circle would dissolve as well, and we would go our separate ways and be fine, but always wonder which of our faults it had been. Who could hold out no longer? Someone had to be the final piece of the puzzle–victor and failure, all at once.
I liked to think that was me.
“Answering the question of whether or not you want someone to be in your life shouldn’t be that difficult, should it?”
I squinted in the sun as I looked across empty space at her.