mini scene: space to breathe

written december 2023 / edited november 2025

Sam leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the nighttime cityscape below. Highways from above were the careful curls she’d drawn on the discarded dolls of her childhood, the red lines of string she drew in her mind now. Maybe if she connected enough dots, drew enough lines, she’d find her peace sitting in the tangled center. She sucked in a slow breath and held it.

“Oi,” Taylor stepped out onto the balcony. “You look tense as hell.”

“I'm fine,” Sam breathed out, words rushing. She grimaced at Taylor. He’d have to figure out on his own that she was trying to smile. “Just a little tired is all.”

Taylor nodded, watching her. “Feels out of your control, huh.”

Sam looked over at him, turning her head. There was a slight crease between his eyebrows.

“I know we don’t talk about it much,” Taylor's voice sounds careful, hovering just above a whisper. “But this is all so stressful. Not just in the adrenaline sense, y’know? It's hard. And I just wanted to say we can, we can talk about that.”

A beat of silence. Sam couldn’t tell when she had stopped breathing, but all of a sudden it was all too noticeable. She and Tay worked well together in the heat of combat or the stress of a deadline, but when the noise faded they were vastly different people. Taylor felt. He let his emotions wash over him like waves in an ocean. And he talked about them sometimes, painted the shape of the water and described its precise blue. Sam couldn’t imagine simply standing there. She ran inland, time and time again, to places where water was measurable and contained.

“You don’t have to do that,” Sam gave him her most convincing smile. “I'm fine. Truly. How have you been?”

“Worried. Y’know that you shrink into yourself when you sit down?”

“I'm sure that’s natural.”

“Doesn’t seem like it to me. Talk, Sam. Tell me what’s going on.”

Sam sighed. “You know what’s going on. You live this yourself. Maybe it’s– it’s starting to get to me.”

Taylor said nothing, giving her space to breathe.

“It's just so uncertain. Tay, we could die tomorrow and never know how this all ends.”

“We could,” he admits. “But doesn’t it comfort you somewhat that you’re doing what you’re doing? That if you do die tomorrow, you’ll go knowing you did your best?

“You’ve made such a difference, Sam. I’ve seen it. You believe in what you do, and it gives me hope too.”

Sam smiled over at him, a real one this time. “Let’s go back in.”

“After you.”