Itâs just a side affect.
A/N: I couldnât be productive and I had about 4 hours before my class. I suggest listening to âidontwannabeyouanymoreâ by Billie Eilish, if you give this a read.
Itâs been a lonely time, but not something she regrets nor thinks about (too much, anyway). Sheâs doing her daily routine-- managed to escape the confines of her bedroom walls to see the cloudy skies overhead. Theyâre the same color. Portray that same empty feeling.
Perhaps she hasnât left at all.
Walking through the crowded streets of Manhattan has never been so empty to her, especially today. The faces are a blur, but occasionally she feels eyes on her. Itâs not an uncommon feeling-- yes, a little unnerving, but not today. She knows the aura that follows her around, and she wishes sometimes people wouldnât notice it. Please, let the white elephant stay where it was. She didnât need to-- didnât want to confront it today.
The wind chuckles a breeze, and she shivers into her scarf. Her breath the only warmth sheâs accepted in months. A hot coffee waits to be ordered and hugged by her hands just a block away. Itâs what keeps her going, even if its a short term goal.
Sheâs working on it. Or she hopes she is.
Sheâs meeting someone. A new someone, she tells others, but probably the same person. Theyâre all the same. Everyone is the same. âNever judge a book by its coverâ -- the laugh that slides past her lips almost makes her shiver as much as the dayâs dreary weather. Little do they know, these books changes their form everywhere she looks-- but their words at the same. Brittle, but so sharp. So sharp the red stoplights look like jagged lines in something a little more firm than the sky of today-- maybe a sunset. Yes, a sunset is more accurate.
Once again, itâs the same smile that welcomes her into the store that melts her hidden pursed lips. Someone so sweet, yet so distant. So far that she forgets how it feels to reach out and feel the warmth that isnât the drink sheâs ordered. The warmth leaves as fast as it came; itâs never meant to stay. Not with her, perhaps-- but she does see it in others. Maybe one day that warmth will surround her like it does with others. But it still follows her. Still hovering over her shoulders, pressing so heavily she wonders if anyone else can see how her shoulder sag from the years of carrying it.Â
No oneâs asked, so it must be a no.
She tips the cup to her lips and winces-- the hot liquid burns her tongue, as if almost scolding her that it wasnât meant for her. Sighing, she sits back in her chair, looking out into the empty crowds that shuffled through the street.
Sheâs meeting someone today. Thatâs what she told them, anyway. But the soft bell chime never hits her ears. Itâs rung so many times, but sheâs grown deaf to it. The cold shelters her-- keeps her comfortable company that never leaves. It stays. It stays more than the warmth ever will.
