Khaeris Dawndancer

Guilt

Weekly Writing Challenge; Week 18 - Guilt

It was too late, she'd sent the messages. Maybe it was for the best. But maybe not. He was in the field. She shouldn't worry Pollux. No amount of 'Please don't worry' would help when say you need to talk.

Khaeris sighed, already feeling the pit in her stomach grow. It had been weighing her down since her talk with Dicenne. Pollux would get them, and he'd undoubtedly worry about the vague notes. She shoved the communicator into her pocket and looked around her wagon.

"My wife and I kept no secrets from each other."

Of course. She was messing it up with Pollux again. She moved to the sink full of dishes that needed washing.

"I'm not your therapist."

It still stung, and Khaeris had to be mindful and make her spine relax again. Her fingers pulled over the glass, but even the squawk from the clean cup couldn't drown out the bite to Dice's replies.

He wasn't her therapist. And she knew better than to think they were friends. Friendly was different than friends, and the line was clear now. She had blurred it, stepped over it. If friendship had been budding he'd thought better of it. Who wouldn't?

When had she had turned so destructive? So much had been done poorly lately. Her wrist turned, catching the light in the clear glass. She admired it. There was a tingle up her neck and the hair at the nape of her neck lifted from gooseflesh. Khaeris rolled her lips and felt her arm tense. A better grip. The weight was satisfying in her palm.

She carefully set the glass down on the drying towel. Her hands plunged into the warm water again and soap bubbles tickled her forearms. Her gaze went out the window, onto the plaza. Guilt--for worrying Pollux; for irritating Dicenne; for wanting things that weren't possible; for taking things she shouldn't--draped itself over her shoulders and she didn't even try to shake it off. She deserved it. She'd have to learn to live with it for now.

She'd learn from it.