She did her work, she laughed with the friends she had made, and she took part in the life of the encampment. But it felt as if she had left her body behind to take care of business while her soul went somewhere else entirely. Whenever she got close enough, she would catch a glimpse of Dario laughing or talking, and suddenly it would feel as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Out of some kind of merciful tacit agreement, they’d kept their distance, only exchanging the odd glance or nod. It felt strange, but more than that, it felt simply wrong. Whenever she saw this man, every part of her told her to go to him, that they were meant to be touching, talking, and laughing together. Bailey thought the pain would grow lesser as time went on. She thought that without touching, without going up to the cave, without words passing between them, that it would get easier. Instead, as time went on, it only seemed to get harder.
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