It was deafening, the way his head hurt. Alcohol burst through his veins like a raging river. He stumbled out into the sidewalk, hugging his arms against the chill.
The bar doors creaked shut behind him, cutting off his last supply of warmth. His breaths were heavy, and slow. Bloodshot eyes searched for a friend while his hand grabbed at an invisible railing.
The bar doors creaked shut behind him, cutting off his last supply of warmth. His breaths were heavy, and slow. Bloodshot eyes searched for a friend while his hand grabbed at an invisible railing.
He missed a step. And — missed again.
No one heard the dull thud. But as he lay on his back, he saw the stars shining frostily in the dark clear sky. He blinked, and watched as the mist from his lungs melted into thin air. “It’s cold,” he whispered softly and pulled his jacket closer around him.
No one heard the dull thud. But as he lay on his back, he saw the stars shining frostily in the dark clear sky. He blinked, and watched as the mist from his lungs melted into thin air. “It’s cold,” he whispered softly and pulled his jacket closer around him.
He knew he was cracked up. And he stayed put until suddenly, his dry lips curled into a sarcastic smile. Something was stirring within him. “That stupid urge again,” he cursed, and dragged himself to his feet.
Darkness swirled around him softly, like her curls — mysterious and elusive. He could hear her laughing at him. He looked around, scanning the empty street, and slowly made his way towards the bus stop.
By the time he made it to the spot it had started to drizzle. As he stood there, silhouetted against the dull yellow street lamp, familiar thoughts rushed in, like carpet bombs.
He remembered the way he loved her. He remembered her laughter. He remembered her dreams. And her insolence.
The rain fell dark and slow, ploughing into shallow puddles that shivered with each shot. He wiped the water from his eyes and looked at the spot where he had seen her last.
Darkness swirled around him softly, like her curls — mysterious and elusive. He could hear her laughing at him. He looked around, scanning the empty street, and slowly made his way towards the bus stop.
By the time he made it to the spot it had started to drizzle. As he stood there, silhouetted against the dull yellow street lamp, familiar thoughts rushed in, like carpet bombs.
He remembered the way he loved her. He remembered her laughter. He remembered her dreams. And her insolence.
The rain fell dark and slow, ploughing into shallow puddles that shivered with each shot. He wiped the water from his eyes and looked at the spot where he had seen her last.
He imagined her in bright sunlight, sunrays glinting off her jet black hair. She used to be there every morning, sharp at 9. Even he was forever there, behind one of the many trees that lined the avenue, watching her. He was afraid to talk to her, afraid that he would hurt her, afraid that he would lose her.
And day after day, he would feel that stupid urge rising to form a lump in his throat— until one fine day, he decided that enough was enough. "I have to tell her everything," he thought aloud.
So, it was a blustery autumn day. The breeze was just right and so was the mellow morning sun. Dry leaves crunched beneath his boots as he walked towards the bus stop where he usually found her waiting. He reached, and on seeing no one, looked at his watch. It was 8:47 am.
And day after day, he would feel that stupid urge rising to form a lump in his throat— until one fine day, he decided that enough was enough. "I have to tell her everything," he thought aloud.
So, it was a blustery autumn day. The breeze was just right and so was the mellow morning sun. Dry leaves crunched beneath his boots as he walked towards the bus stop where he usually found her waiting. He reached, and on seeing no one, looked at his watch. It was 8:47 am.
He decided to wait.
That day she didn't turn up. And he left it at that.
That day she didn't turn up. And he left it at that.
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