What's Left...

"The worst has happened," he said. He was smiling, that much was clear. "I don't need to worry now. There's nothing left to worry about." He shrugged. He looked calmer than he had looked in a long time. Funny. He'd lost it all. The business, he’d hung on tenaciously. Maybe the house, if luck really turned its back.

"You seem to be very calm about it. That's everything, isn't it?"

He laughed, almost to himself. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought, so it would seem. "It's... it's... and I know this might sound strange, but it's kind of liberating. Nothing can hurt me now. I can stop stressing, like I have been for the past...how long?"

"It's done?"

"It's done!" The stress had left his face. Suddenly, he looked his age again.

"All over..."

"I'm still standing. I'm still alive. I can still look up and see the blue sky. I can still smell the orange blossom. I can pick you one, if you want?"

"What's left? Anything?"

"I've got you, haven't I?"

They hugged, tightly. They hadn't hugged, as boyfriends do for a very long time.

"Everything will be okay." It was a whisper. There were tears sliding slowly down his face.

"Yeah... it will."