Mark looked down at his coffee. I don’t want to lose you entirely.
The coffee was lukewarm, much like the conversation. Across the scratched oak table, Mark was doing that thing with his thumb where he traced the rim of his mug, over and over. It was a nervous habit Elias used to find endearing. Now, it just felt like a countdown. let-s-not-stay-friends
The silence that followed wasn't the comfortable kind they were used to. It was sharp and jagged. Mark leaned back, his brow furrowed. You don’t mean that. You’re just hurt. Mark looked down at his coffee