She looked at her hands. Her knuckles were white, her fingers literally locked together in a tight, aching braid. It was a superstition she couldn't quit. If she let go, the fragile silence of the house might shatter. If she let go, the person she was waiting for might never find the door.
The lyrics echoed back: You really think I’m gonna let you go? billie eilish - fingers crossed // lyrics
She walked to the window. The street below was overgrown, the pavement cracked by stubborn weeds. A rusted car sat abandoned at the curb, its door hanging open like a tired jaw. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her interlaced fingers pressing into her palms. "I'm still here," she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. She looked at her hands
Elara was scared of the wind. It sounded too much like someone whispering her name from the hallway. She was scared of the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun because they looked like memories she couldn't quite catch. But mostly, she was scared of the truth: that the person she was crossing her fingers for had already let go of hers. If she let go, the fragile silence of
Elara didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. If she turned and the room was empty, the hope would evaporate. But if she stayed exactly like this—breath held, eyes shut, fingers crossed—he was still there. In the silence, in the song, he was just a second away from saying her name.
In the "Before," that phrase was a joke. It was what you said when you hoped the coffee shop hadn't run out of oat milk or that the rain would hold off until you got home. Now, it was a religion.
Elara sat on the edge of her unmade bed, the static of the radio filling the gaps where a voice used to be. The lyrics of a song she’d heard a thousand times—one about holding breath and hoping for a miracle—looped in her head like a broken record. Fingers crossed.