found via weheartit
Fear came in pairs of threes. She was always scared of the combination. Three words (I love you), three sentences (I'm sorry, There's something I need to tell you, and No.), three numbers (666) and then there was three letters (now). (Now) She heard that word last. It was so permanent and present, describing everything in the small time space that had just happened (now).
"You're different (now)," he said. "It's only been a year since I last saw you, but you've grown so much." Plenty of things can happen in a year, she thought sarcastically. It's 365 days, 365 chances to hear words unexpected, three hundred sixty five moments to hope for the worse like this moment between us (now). "Things feel different (now)."
Now if only she could take those words and throw it back in time. Now wouldn't matter so much as later. Not so much as back then. She scratched her head and smoked her cigarette as he looked onward with distaste. The science of words and time - figuring out how would fix everything (now).
