She relaxes her hand, and the knife slips free, clattering to the floor. Her eyes flit to his lips, and he becomes all too aware of their proximity. How his body has her pinned against the counter, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, her other hand clenched in his shirt. She’s trembling, and tears have made their way down her cheeks—still dusted pink from when he last saw her. He wants nothing more than to wipe her tears and draw her into his arms. The tightness in his chest burns; he’ll never be that person for her.