Elusive. Quiet. Shadowy. Not saying exactly what's going on underneath. Appearing cool and collected, going places. Confident.
Those eyes. They look at you and see right through you. She is not of this world, and she speaks a language you don't grasp. Poetry. Metaphor. Phrases that linger and sentences that don't finish. Hints of thoughts, impressions.
You think you know her but you've not even scratched the surface. Worlds of mystery and light, depths you know nothing of, pain she's never brought up, heights you've never reached with her, places in time she hasn't gone with you, stories she's not felt safe enough to tell herself or you.
Then you said something, a small something, a hint. You doubted a small part of your future with her, and you didn't think she heard. A tiny splinter.
She's gone. You didn't end anything, because she has already parachuted out into the soft dark night without you hearing the hatch open or close. Soft landing, feet touching soft bare earth, running into the dark, a dark that embraces and envelops her.
She is gone to you. Irretractable, she's untraceable.
Like a deer pausing mid flight in the woods. You catch her eyes, but she is a mystery. Nimble, fleet, shy, lithe. You hold her gaze, this creature of wildness. Every sense is vibrating in the dark of the night. A twig snaps, you move your head. Danger. She's gone.
Maybe you didn't even see her. Maybe you dreamed her up. Maybe she wasn't even real. Maybe she was never real to you. Maybe you never even knew her.
She's a runner. You can't expect to hold down a wild creature.
You even hint in that direction, she's gone before you can follow through.