What?

The wind blew her across the street, but she barely noticed.
She was too preoccupied.
Preoccupied with what?
I don't understand.
Cold envelops her, she shivers, almost compulsively, but she doesn't really notice the cold.
I wonder why.
Writing doesn't seem to be helping her, she pauses at the corner and looks up.
The great expanse of sky is overwhelming right now, she looks down.
Why must she try to push it aside.
Why can't she just shout it out.
It's taking all of her to play it cool.
I wish I knew.
Maybe I could help her.
Probably not though.
A camera flashes, she turns, and there he is.
*Got ya*. Smiles.
It's uncanny, he's there, she swallows.
Now or never.
She opens her mouth.
*Bang*
The words never come.
The car races by.

Days later.
He sits on the grass.
Why had he never told her?
Regret twists what's left of his heart.
I silently cry out for him.
Tears come.
It's all very firmiliar.

It's not too late.
Not yet, at least.