Isabelle

Funerals are dreary events that mourning people subject other mourning people to. And the latter party has to go in order to show respect to the recently lifeless man, woman or child. Funerals are filled with the sounds of weeping, of half-hearted courage and unsteady breaths. Funerals are abundant with the scents of flowers and fresh clothes. Funerals consist of black and white people taking slow and steady steps as not to collapse from their own internal agony. Those men in black suits plaster on a stoic expression to temporary conceal their grief so they can console their other halves that are using up packets and packets of tissue. Funerals are saltwater pools. Each memory brought forth regarding the dead person is a small stone that is tossed lightly into the puddle and the ripples are the effects it has on the people. Funerals are unavoidable because everybody dies sometime and you're likely to know and care for a lot of people. I could come up with a million ways to describe this dismal scene, a trillion theories to explain it. And yet I knew for certain that if I opened my mouth, nothing but air would escape from it.

I felt a warm hand on mine. I looked over to see Nicole smiling ruefully. She was smiling the kind of smile that someone might wear to coax a smile out of someone else. There. Another thing funerals had. Fake smiles by real people experiencing real pain. Nicole squeezed my hand in encouragement. I eyed her for a second, forcing myself to take in her intelligent green eyes, blonde wavy hair and little black dress. I saw the pure innocence in those eyes and the sincere concern. Still, I couldn't bear it for long. I pulled my hand back and stuffed it into my pocket because I started to see what she wasn't. She didn't have endless black eyes. She didn't have brown hair.

She wasn't Isabelle.

"I'm so sorry. I know you cared about her," Nicole said quietly. I gave her a nearly imperceptible nod. I didn't bother whether she detected it or not. I felt the blood rushing up to give my face a little bit of color. It felt like it had been pale forever. Yes. I cared about Isabelle.

The minutes dragged and each passing second was harder. I tried to keep my emotions at bay but they were threatening to overflow, to pummel me, to leave me breathless and insignificant as rubble. Was this finally it?

"Spencer Chase?" A voice snapped me out of my abstraction. "Young man? Would you like to say a few words to honor Isabelle? I understand she was close to you." This was true. Everyone knew Isabelle and I were best friends. I rose unsteadily and trudged to the front. I stopped by her coffin and mustered the courage to peer inside. Most people would think that they prefer not to see their loved one still, lifeless and cold because they wouldn't want that to be their last memory of the person. But for me, I had to see her. I had to see her alabaster skin even paler; so pale it looked translucent. I had to see her eyes shut and never opening again. I had to see so I could tell myself that this was real. Because I could never imagine such an image. Having this image in my head kept me holding onto reality. I couldn't help thinking that she looked so kind and beautiful even in death.

"Spencer?" I barely heard it. The collective whispers of the crowd seemed to fade into something farther than the background as well. There was just Isabelle and me. Then there was just me and my agony.

The next thing I knew? I was running fast, pushing my lungs and limbs far beyond what they should be capable of executing. I ran several blocks without pausing to take a breather. I ran until my heart felt like it would burst through my chest and land on the pavement. I loosened the tie around my neck and undid the first button. I kept running as if I could outrun the tragedy. When I stopped I was in an alley. My inhalations were shallow and my vision, blurry. My brain was fogged, my memory numb. A different kind of pain shot through my body, originating from my heart. I pressed my back against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. Here is good, I thought. Nobody would see me break down in here. I felt the tears trickle calmly down my cheeks. There was one thing nobody there knew about Isabelle. She was my girlfriend. She loved me. I loved her.

And then there in that alley there was just my agony. Because it had swallowed every part of me.

The Human Race

Beads of perspiration descend.
I am in a forsaken race,
desperate to meet the finish line.
The earsplitting gunshot
echoed throughout the hollow caverns
and the people are off
with energy they bought.

The ground is harsh and hard,
those that fall sustain bruises and grazes,
upon the skin, upon the heart.

We all wear similar roadrunner garments
tromp upon the earth
to glorify or vilify forefathers and fathers.
The race is governed by fools.
Infuse your bloodstream with chemicals.
There are no rules.

What we all cling onto
is the childish hope
that the riches are reward enough,
a golden trophy doused with age.
But there is no first place.
And we are all running,
running to run, running to survive.
Because being abandoned
to camouflage in dust is unthinkable.

We all have to play
with our innocence dying slowly
day by day.
In the end,
with madness we all contend.

Indebted to a Postcard

I was driving around town on a Sunday. The town of Riverton to be exact. I had just moved here a few weeks ago with my uncle. I was really glad that he had picked this place. It was quaint and quirky as most small towns are. This one had an aura of sophistication mixed in with the pure innocence it emitted. I found that fascinating. I drove past a large structure at the edge of town. I immediately recognized it as the aquarium that Riverton was famous for. A few mornings ago when I was at the convenient store near the harbor, I had seen numerous post cards for visitors to take back so they could spread the word of tiny little Riverton. A lot of those post cards had the name and picture of this aquarium. I glanced at my watch and inferred that I had enough time to go in and walk around a little. Besides, I didn't have much else to do besides get home in time to cook dinner for Uncle Brady. 

I initiated a U-turn and drove back the way I came until I found the turn that would lead me into the aquarium parking lot. I found a parking spot quickly because the lot was mostly empty. Slow day, probably. I got out of my old but functional car and walked towards the entrance. I stepped through the double doors and let my eyes roam over the place and adjust to the difference in lighting. Outside, the sun was shining relentlessly but in here, it was as dark as dusk and tinged with blue. I supposed they wanted to mimic the color and feel of being underwater. I liked that. I started walking around, scanning through the little bits of information they provide below each tank and then just watching the fish. I appreciated the vivid colors of the coral put at the bottom of the tanks.

"Hey," a voice sounded behind me, making me jump.

I turned around and saw a dark haired boy in a light blue T-shirt. On the T-shirt was the name of the aquarium and a small picture of a clownfish. "Hi," I said.

"Liking the angelfish?" He asked, gesturing to the tank I had been staring at for a while now.

"Yeah, they're beautiful. You work here?"

"I volunteer," the boy answered.

"Wow! That's cool. You're likely to win best summer job at school," I said, smiling. 

He laughed. "Yeah. I like it here. It's peaceful and more rewarding then printing receipts at a convenient store. I'm Mark by the way."

"Stacy."

"Are you new in town? Or just visiting? I've never seen you around here before."

"I just moved in a couple of weeks ago actually. My uncle wanted to leave the city and get started on the whole 'small town life' thing."

"So, you liking what you see?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.

I was silent for a while.

He flushed. "I mean the town."

I laughed to dissolve the awkwardness. "I know. It's great. The people are really nice," I offered as I involuntarily fingered the side of my sundress. 

"I'm uh... about to feed them. Do you want to come with?" He asked, gesturing to the tank again.

"Is that okay?" I wondered.

"You're not going in; just watching. It's fine." 

"All right," I agreed, smiling. I followed him down couple of hallways and up a flight of stairs. He told me to stay put while he got into the gear. I saw the tops of all the tanks. From here they looked like swimming pools. Mark came back a second later, dressed in black scuba gear. The mask and flippers and everything. He took out the mask and grinned. "Like the outfit?"

"Dashing." I chuckled. I watched as he did his job. I began to notice little things about Mark. For instance, he motions were all very gentle. Not too rushed, not impulsive. He seemed like one of those rare people who actually had it all together and like never lost their temper. I was oddly envious. I was also conscious of his smile. He had a really wonderful smile, the type I would never get tired of looking at. After he finished his duties, he changed back into casual attire.

"So this is how it's done," he said, gesturing to the fish after he finished the feeding. 

"Cool."

"Am I boring you?" He fretted.

"No, no!" I said quickly. "It's really intriguing."

"Hey, you wanna grab lunch?"

I deliberated in silence for a moment.

"Come on, if you say no, I'll just be eating my lousy peanut butter sandwich I brought in a Ziploc bag. But if you say yes, I'll have an excuse to have good food," he said, laughing. 

I laughed along. "I don't know. I might have to get home."

"No...Seriously, come on. Have you been to the restaurant by the harbor? They serve the best fish sticks in the entire country. I do not kid, Stacy. I do not kid."

I looked at his pleading expression a little longer then I nodded. "Okay." 

We drove together in his car to the restaurant. The meal was great and I really had to admit to myself that I enjoyed talking to him. He was an optimistic person who had his own views on the world. His was a refreshing personality. I found myself quickly growing addicted to his laugh, his bad jokes and spoken fun facts about sea creatures.

"Did you know that the correct collective noun for jellyfish is a smack?"

"What? Really? A smack of jellyfish?"

"Yep! Weird right? So tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

I'm uh... going to study psychology?"

"Cool! You can read minds, then."

"Why does everyone say that?" I responded. "You know, psychologists don't actually read minds. They study behavior and expressions and body language then they draw plausible conclusions."

"So…basically, in summary, they read minds."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "You? Are you only filled with fun facts regarding sea creatures?"

"Hah! You wish!" He said as he picked up a fish stick. "I know about land animals too. Kangaroos use their tails for balance so if you hold a kangaroo’s tail, it can't hop."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Also, if a croc has clamped onto you, push your thumb into its eyeball. It'll let you go immediately."

I shook my head slowly. 

"Elephants undergo menopause."

"What?" I choked on the lemonade.

"It's true!" 

"No way."

"Really. I know. I'm like a fun fact dispenser."

"Wow..." I muttered. "What are you going to study? Later I mean."

"Eventually I'll make it to one of those bigger schools to study oceanography. Right now, I'm pretty content here. Also, I'm still saving up. All's good."

"Awesome."

"So, what do you think of this place? Riverton."

I thought about it. "I keep thinking it's like a dream. It's so quiet that it's almost magical."

He nodded thoughtfully. The rest of the afternoon was so harmless and hopeful. Mark was a great person and before we said goodbye, I already knew I wanted to see him again. I remember thinking to myself that it really was dreamlike. And if it was a dream, I'd be fine with not waking up. 

I despise people who deliberately make things harder for other people. Life is hard enough as it is. Wholly unnecessary judgments and destructive lashes do not better the world. To those people, why are you even here?

"What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?"
-George Elliot 

Someone Just Like Me

I always believed that chance and luck dictated most of our lives. The way I saw it, so much of what defines our lives is because of chance and luck. For instance, a talented man was recognized because he was lucky. He was lucky that someone had recognized his talent at an early stage. He was lucky people nurtured him and helped him grow. Well, we aren't all lucky. Some of us get our loved ones ripped away.

“Anna.” My mom's voice snapped me out of my daydreams again. No, not mom, step-mom. “I just want to remind you that we are doing this in your best interest.”
“Got it.” I mumbled in a voice that sounded dead and detached even in my own ears. I sounded empty, lifeless and aimless.

I shrugged off the self-pity and forced myself to toughen up. I knew this was coming. I wasn't surprised when my step-mom came in my room to talk to me about it a few nights ago. She explained how this was necessary due to my behavior. In layman's terms, I was basically asking for it. I didn't seriously think that all my actions would be forgiven and forgotten, but part of me still was confused at how it all led to this.
We arrived at the cold, dark and ominous place before the sunset. Boarding school. Yeah, that's what they called it. I knew that this was not an ordinary school though. It was a cross between a boarding school and a mental institution. Of course, they didn't put it like that. They made it sound all flowery so my guardian would buy into it. This would be my personal hell. I was sure of it before I even got my bags out of the car.
I was showed to my room. I assumed we would all have roommates but I didn't have one. That should be nice. I didn't enjoy having to make small talk, though I had perfected it. I thought about all the other things I had tried to perfect over the years. Seeming normal, pretending to be like everybody else. I wondered if I had really ever pulled this off. Another thing, hiding my pain. That was something I always worked on. The pain that lived inside me was something no one could ever take away. That's how it felt to me. All the therapy and counseling in the world that I was put through didn't make it go away completely. Why is it that my stepmother and Nana had put me here in this sick place? Last month, the first anniversary of my parents' death, I had attempted suicide.

I didn't want to think about it anymore. It was too agonizing to bear. Even with all that time, I still felt so wrong inside. I felt so alone. I felt that no one truly understood me. Time heals all wounds. 'What a joke!' I thought to myself as I exited my room and went to walk around the vast campus. The buildings were grey and dull but I had to admit that aside from those boring buildings, the place was actually quite beautiful. There was beautiful green grass and there were trees and flowers. The sunshine touched the grass and the leaves in the trees making the scene almost bearable for me. I glared up at the summer sky and then bundled up my long waves of hair and quickly tied a messy bun. I found the biggest tree on campus and began to climb. It was something I always did. It had become a habit of mine. I liked tall places. I had never been afraid of heights. My depression and anger pushed me higher. I was really high up in the tree when I finally decided to stop climbing. I sighed heavily and carefully found a safe spot to sit.

“Hey. Get your own tree.” A hostile voice startled me. I looked around me and spotted a boy about my age sitting on the same tree. His voice was hostile but his face was polite. I thought I saw a trace of humor somewhere in his expression.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know your name was engraved on this one.” I said sarcastically.
He chuckled at my response. “Chill. I was kidding. I like to kid once in a while.”
“Oh.” I said not knowing what else to say.
“You're new here aren't you?”
“Just enrolled.” I noted that my voice sounded somber.
“What's your name?”
“Annabelle. Call me Anna.”
“Cool. Annabelle. Pretty name.”
“Thanks. Aren't you going to tell me your name?”
“Matthew. Call me Matt.”
“Cool.” I copied his response just as he had copied mine.
“What are you doing up here?”
“I like it. What are you doing up here?”
“I always come here.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “When I'm all the way up here, and I look down, everything down there seems simpler. And I see things a little more clearly than I would if I were on the ground.” He smiled slightly but it wasn't a happy smile.
I was stunned into silence. My eyes fell on his face. I wanted to drop my gaze but I couldn't seem to for a minute.
“What?” He asked.
“That's exactly why I go up to high places.” I confessed.
“What are the odds? I found someone just like me.” His voice was lighter now. His reply somehow made me relax a little. I felt pretty weightless. I hadn't felt that way in a long time.

"We humans, I realized, are stupid. But we are all stupid together."

Bookworms

My friend, Kristen and I visited a giant book clearance sale last month. The sale was a big deal and hosted it in only a few states every year. I was so ecstatic that they picked Ohio.

"Oh my gosh!! Chloe, will you look at this?!" Kristen almost screamed. 

I was standing right behind her, reading the back of a book. The tittle of the book was "Article 5". But I let go of it at once because I knew better than to keep Kristen waiting. I turned around and said, "What?"

"Look!!" She squealed. I did and I couldn't hold back my enthusiasm. I understood why she was so exuberant now. She was gazing at a section filled with the books of the series we both loved. Kristen had read the entire series but she didn't have her own copies. She borrowed the books from one of her friends and since then, had wanted to get her own copies to keep on her overflowing bookshelf. I on the other hand, wanted to cross it off my ginormous list of books to buy and read before I turned 18.

"We are so getting these!!!" I said.

"Duh!" Kristen said, already grabbing two of each book from the series. 

"Oh my gosh! They are in perfect condition too! This is insane!"

"I know!!!" Kristen almost screamed. 

A few people were turning to stare. This big balding man wore a disdainful expression on his leathery face. I tried shushing Kristen but we both ended up laughing. We both had a small stack of books now and I suggested that we try stuffing them into our bags before moving on. The thing about this sale was that everything was so ridiculously cheap that instead of using boxes or plastic bags, serious book enthusiasts brought gigantic luggage bags. Like the kind people used to go for vacation in Japan. Kristen and I each brought one in addition to the backpacks hanging our shoulders. I unzipped my luggage and felt my jaw drop. "There is no way these'll fit," I told Kristen. 

"Gosh mine's full as well," she said. "Maybe our backpacks."

So we slung our backpacks around and opened them up. There was some space left. We had to shift a few things around but by the time we stood up, all the books were safely inside. "Now to get more," I said, cheerily. But I knew we couldn't go too far because we didn't have any room left.

We ventured into the Humor section. There were quite a number of interesting books there. We were looking though a book that contained the most useless facts on earth when they came up to us. Two guys about our age. One had auburn hair and the other had dark hair that was very close to black. The one with the auburn hair spoke first. 

"Is it hot in here or is it just you girls?" He said with a wide grin on his face. Kristen and I looked at each other than looked back at them. 

"That is the worst pickup line in the history of the world," Kristen said.

I laughed. "When she's right, she's right."

The guy with the auburn hair looked away then jabbed the dark haired one in the arm. "Thank you for that, asshole."

"Smooth," he commented, holding back laughter. "Hey. I'm Dominic. That one's Jake. So, bookworms don't blush?"

"What?" I asked.

"Jake isn't used to comebacks, just some swooning and blushing. That's what most girls give him," Dominic said.

"Okay that's not true. Look that wasn't my idea okay. He dared me to do it!" The who was evidently Jake insisted. 

"I'm trying to sell you as a lady killer," Dominic whispered too loudly. 

"Is that all?" Kristen asked. She could be really cold and critical if she wanted to. She had like this death stare that could make even the manliest guys run for the hills. I coughed to hide a laugh.

"Uh... Wait tell us your names." Dominic said.

"Why?" Kristen asked.

They didn't seem to know either. I stepped in. "Listen. Chip, Dale, we're not 'most girls' so I suggest you better find some other paper people to bother." They looked confused.

"Bye," Kristen said angelically.

We strode quickly away from them. When we were out of earshot, Kristen and I burst out laughing.
"Did you seriously just use our paper potato term? They won't get something like that!"

"Yes! First thing that popped into my head!" I said, laughing. "We are so awesome." 

"Yeah!"

"Okay I think we're about done here. Number 1, we can't carry anymore. Number 2, we don't have a million bucks."

"Right. Okay let's go." We made our way to the long line. This was going to be a long wait. Kristen and I didn't do much while waiting in line besides take a few photos. Eventually the two counters were free. I went to the one on the left while Kristen took the one on the right. The people at the counter unpacked all our books, counted them then put them back neatly. Kristen and I simultaneously got out our purses. Then a tall guy stepped deliberately in front of me. "Hey!" I said angrily. He glanced at me and smiled. I was taken aback. He was one of the guys from the duo we met earlier. Jake. I shot a glance at Kristen and saw Dominic in front of Kristen. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked him. 

He didn't answer. I watched what he was doing. He was handing the cashier money. For my books. He was paying for my books? He looked at me and said, "So this is how to make bookworms blush?" He asked.

I cleared my throat and said, "I'm gonna pay you back."

"No way," he said innocently stuffing his hands into his pockets. He helped me carry most of my books as well, ignoring when I protested. We met up with Dominic and Kristen. I didn't expect them to be this clever. Even Kristen was kind if flabbergasted now. 

"So... If you want to repay us... Let's all grab a coffee. There's a café down the road," Dominic said. 

"Uh... Sure?" I said, trying to see if that was what Kristen wanted as well.

“Yeah. Okay,” she said. She seemed impressed. I was too. 

They took the lead, carrying most of our books again. 
I shot a glance at Kristen. 

She shrugged and laughed once. “This’ll make a good story one day, you know?”

Those 3 Words

I didn't know what to say. In that moment, what I felt couldn't be expressed in those 3 common words that we humans use to convey affection. I was at a loss for words but a part of me insisted that the silence said more than words could. So I just stared at her, watching her smile as the wind ruffled her hair, memorizing the way her face looked when it was flushed. I noticed how there was a light in her eyes that I rarely saw in other people. She wore a small smile that made me a little frustrated inside. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she remembering something funny? Planning a practical joke on her friend? I wanted to ask but I didn't want the magical silence to leave right away.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked me, turning to look at me suddenly. I looked away, feeling my face warm up. It felt like she had caught me spying on her.

"You." I answered honestly.

She grinned then turned back to the lake. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I wanted to say not as beautiful as her but it sounded too common and cheesy. "Yeah."

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about tomorrow? Like the near future?"

"Not really." I tended to live as much in the present as possible. Thinking too much about things I had no control over made me depressed.

She was quiet for a second. Then she looked at me and inched closer. She leaned on my shoulder seeming a little hesitant. "What do you see yourself doing? Like in 5 years?"

I shrugged. "The same thing. Waiting tables."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Am I a part of your future?"

She silenced me for a moment. I didn't really think about it. Because whenever I did try to picture a future with her, it would always be too perfect to be believable.

"Am I?"

"That depends on you, doesn't it?" I mumbled, turning my head so she couldn't see my face even if she looked up. She did. I felt her head leave my shoulder. I continued. "Do you want to be a part of it?"

"Of course. I love you." She put her head back on my shoulder.

"I love you too," I said, pressing my lips to her hair.

I sincerely hoped that this would be enough to shield us from whatever obstacles that the universe would put in our way.

Skylar

            

            “Hi,” I said boldly.

            “Hi,” she replied.

            “So…” I began awkwardly. I was mentally scrolling through all the other scenarios of how I had asked girls out before. But something in me knew that navigating the waters with Skylar would be different. I was at a loss for words.

            “So?” She prompted. “Still hoping to know more about me?”

            “You want to tell me?”

            “Not really,” she said.

            “So where’re ya from?” I asked, trying to sound conversational.

            She looked at me again, her expression quizzical. “Everywhere.”

            “You move a lot?”

            “Sure.”

            “Where was the last place you lived?” I asked.

            “New York,” she answered.

            “Wow. Busy city. I went there to visit my Aunt one Christmas. It’s happening even at night.”

            “Sure is,” she agreed.

            “Why did you come here?”

            She bit her lip lightly, probably thinking what to answer. Or she could be wondering if I was a serial killer who wanted to know her personal details. She was hard to read. That was the difference between her and other girls. I knew my way around the average girl. But Skylar – her expressions and her curt replies. She was something else.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that this town is less exciting than New York. Most people here want to go to places like that. Like New York,” I explained. Her expression smoothened a little, understanding coloring her eyes.

            “I have a relative here. My uncle.” She said cautiously as if afraid to reveal too much.

            “So, you liking Johanna High?”

            “Is this some sort of interrogation?” She asked suddenly.

            “Uh… no.” I glanced behind me and saw Troy and Matthew laughing. I gave them what I liked to call a death glare then turned back to Skylar. She had her lips pursed.

            “I was wondering if you’re free on Saturday night. There’s this party – a”

            “Now you’re asking me out, Jason Hunter?” She looked annoyed but I thought I saw a trace of humor somewhere in those hazel eyes.

            “Just being friendly.” I muttered.

            She laughed then, unexpectedly.

            “Something funny?”

            She ignored that. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there’s something else you want to know.”

            I kept silent but felt my eyes tighten.

            “You’ve been asking me a lot of meaningless, generic questions really, really quickly and trying to have a conversation or ask me out or whatever. But there’s something else you’re curious about, aren’t you?”

            “Fine,” I allowed. “I’m curious. Why the first impression nonsense on the first day?” Truth is, I had been wondering about that since she spoke it.

            She shrugged. “To introduce myself was to assuage you that I was not an outsider. I thought it’d be cooler to prolong the mystery.”

            I thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

            “So what did you think about me? When you first saw me.” I saw the curiosity in her eyes.

            “Beautiful. Exceptionally so,” I said easily. “Uh… different. Hard to please. Talented.” I said. 

            She considered. “Hmm.”

            “So are you going to tell me your first impression of me?”

            “I was right. I made sure of it,” she said.  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I realized that her opinion mattered to me. I wanted her to like me as a person.

            “Well, what was it?”

            She sat a little straighter, squared her shoulders. “Shallow. Jock. Ignorant. A little haughty. Brash. Tactless. Average.” I couldn’t find one good quality in the truckload of words she used to describe me.

            I reacted defensively. “You don’t know me.”

            “Numerous pranks last year including graffiti in the teachers’ bathroom, cheating in tests, terrorizing other students. Only friends: football team and basketball team. Cheerleaders as girlfriends. Sounds about right to me, Hunter.

            I felt my ears go hot. “I’m not some ignorant bastard. I have goals. Like…. Well and, do you realize I said great things about you and you said nothing nice about me?”

            “I thought we were being honest,” she said, her eyes wide with innocence. My fists clenched. She was wrong. She made me sound like a jerk. Surely I wasn’t a jerk.

            “Am I wrong?” She asked.

            “Not entirely,” I admitted, feeling the sudden anger leave my system.

            After a while, she said, “For what it’s worth, you’re wrong about me.” Before I could ask, she continued talking. “I assume this conversation isn’t what your friends pictured you’d be getting. They look edgy.”

            “Yeah I guess I should get back to them,” I muttered, feeling deflated. I stood and pushed the chair in. Surprisingly, she rose too. She walked right up to me.

            “Something for you.” She smirked.

            Before I could ask her what she meant, she grabbed the collar of my shirt with both hands and kissed me. On the lips. I felt her tongue caress my lower lip and her warm breath in my mouth. My lips moved with hers automatically. Like my lips were created specifically so I could kiss Skylar Breanne Robinson. Her right hand moved to the back of my head and my hand was on her forearm. The kiss was so perfectly packed with life that what must have been 5 seconds, seemed indefinite to me.

            When it was over, she smirked again, grabbed her untouched sandwich and left the cafeteria. She left the perfume of her presence to confuse me further.

Blizzards

I walked to her house after work. I didn't know what I was thinking actually. I didn't know where I got the nerve to walk to her house at night, knowing that her fiancé might be the one opening the door. The thought of that made me sick and I almost turned around. Almost. The air was cold and uninviting. It was snowing but only very slightly. Flecks of white drifted down from the sky but before hitting the ground, got carried someplace else by the wind. I thought back to the time when I could find a scene like this beautiful. A time when snowfalls made me want to be better for her. It always shocked me how much things had changed in a few short years. Now every snowfall was like a blizzard. I caught myself walking down memory lane again. Then I had to exit that place because even now, my heart wasn't whole enough to bear the atrocities.

I walked right up to her door and knocked it twice. Part of me was hoping she wasn't home so I would have to force myself to leave. I took several steps back not trusting myself. I had just mustered the courage to leave when I heard the door open. She stood in the frame with her lips pursed. Her green eyes were unmistakable to my heart but the better, more rational side of me told me that she wasn't who she used to be. People change.

I stood there, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, not sure what to do now.

She glanced behind her for a second as if checking if anyone was there. Maybe Brandon, her fiancé, really was at home. I thought she would close the door and pretend she didn't see me but after a minute, she came out and met me by the edge of the porch. I hated the way I still found her so beautiful. I hated the way that even her unsmiling face set my heart beating faster than normal.

"Lucas," she said. "You shouldn't be here."

The words stung but I ignored it. "I just wanted to wish you a happy wedding. You'll make a breathtaking bride, you know? I would love to see you there but… I really don’t think I’ll be welcome…so…" I trailed off, feeling stupid. This was pathetic.

"Are you okay?" She asked and I wondered what I looked like through her eyes.

"Of course." I lied. "You know me. Anyway, you need to promise me something, Julie. Just be happy. Promise you'll be happy with Brandon. Just please. Promise me."

"S-sure," she stuttered.

I wanted to give her an acceptable parting gesture but nothing came to me and the silence lengthened. Finally, I awkwardly held out my hand for a handshake.

She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment, deliberating. I had the feeling that she would reject it. Unexpectedly, she took a step towards me. Then, she wrapped her arms around me, pressing her cheek against my chest. She used to hug me this way, years ago. She had said that hearing my heartbeat reminded her that the world was a lot less complicated than she thought.

And I suppose she was right. The world is not complicated. It's just unfair. Because how could this be justified? I watched her walk back into the house before I turned to leave realizing that this would be the last time I'd see her.

It was like watching her walk out of my life. Again.