She was leaving.  He followed her with his eyes.  But his mind got away: it raced around the corner and blocked the exit just in time.  She walked into his outstretched arms—straight through his phantom arms—then disappeared just beyond a heavy door.  The closing door.  The slamming door.  The ugly, gray door.  The “I’ll see you no more” door.

She never knew he was standing there.  Breathless.  Close enough to brush her hair and agitate her skirt with static blue sparks.
Andrew Dabar