Hana

She was mine before she was yours: The words are there, unexpectedly, surging from my throat to my tongue.

A paper town, a paper world: paper rustling in the wind, whispering to me, hissing out a message of poison and jealousy.

If you know something, do something.

I’m sorry, Lena.

His eyes land on me and he, too, freezes.
At first I think there must be a mistake. He must have knocked on the wrong door. Lena will yell at him now, tell him to clear off. But then my mind grinds slowly into gear and I realize that no, he has just called Lena’s name. This was obviously planned.