BB Grey–musings

She loved being chased.
Not just for the thrill, but for the way it made her feel less alone.
Like the world still turned for her,
like someone, somewhere, believed she was worth the pursuit.

She hated being caught.
Hated the moment when the hands reached her waist,
when desire became expectation,
when the chase ended and the realness of it all set in.
She could love the idea of love, but not the weight of it.

So she spent her life moving forward, always forward.
A silent agreement between her and the universe—
to never stay too long,
to never let the feeling settle.
To slip out the door just before morning,
leaving only the faintest trace of perfume and possibility.

And maybe, in the end, she preferred it that way.