the trick is to keep breathing

If someone had asked Vincent why, he could have never said. She was his friend - not just that, she was his best friend's wife, for the love of Da-Chao. It was an abominable way to act, undisciplined, discourteous and downright emotional.

But for just a moment, when the late afternoon sunlight had thrown her cheekbones into profile and turned the lenses of her glasses into mirrors, Vincent hadn't seen Shera Highwind sitting next to him. He had seen her. They laughed the same, they adjusted their glasses the same, they even smelled the same. Vincent had gotten lost in a memory, and when he emerged, things were shaping up to be awkward, very awkward indeed. Another sin to throw on the pile.

Shera put a hand on his shoulder. When Vincent finally managed to meet her gaze, what he found there wasn't embarrassment, or anger, or even, Gods forbid, reciprocation.

It was pity.

"It's alright, Vincent," she finally said with a small, shy smile. "It wasn't me you were kissing anyway."

And they both knew this was true.