oddity
a short love story
A thought enters my mind as I cross the street. A tear forms near my eye. I wipe it away as the rain hits my jacket. It was midnight on September 15th. I was hurt, lied to and felt crushing depression.
She had led me to believe that she loved me. She hugged me, comforted me when I was hurt, but I don’t know if she was being genuine. Did she love me before? Did she forget?
Why does it matter anyway? She doesn’t anymore. That’s how it is. She leaves me bawling on the sidewalk, telling me I’m overreacting. I’m overreacting apparently. You get dumped by someone you devoted three years of your life to. See how you feel.
She left and it rained, like a cliché love story. My eyes have worn down and I haven’t gone to work since. It’s been three days actually. I wonder how much I lose from my salary. Probably not much.
I’ve been walking these empty streets since six, trying to forget those cerulescent eyes. My thoughts betrayed me every time. I remember every damn moment with her. I haven’t been this sad since, well, forever. She might be justified by what she did. After all, I always thought I tried too hard.
The guy she’s dating right now must be happy, looking at her dark hair and listening to her clever snarks. I can just imagine her laughing with that gorgeous face.
I wake up, feeling the weight on my chest once again. I’m in a subway. A blaring train horn startles me as a train passes by. I’m on a bench, waking up dazed and still feeling horrible.
Why bother with this? She left me for him, three hundred miles away. What point would there be to me moping around in shame and horror? Could I just get this over with?
With that, I jump onto my car, go to the nearest coffee shop and buy the largest drink they were allowed to serve me.
I drink a bit of it and start driving to three hundred miles away.
I arrive at a small home. How do I know the address you may ask? Well, attempted to talk to him through Facebook. When he sent his message, he left his GPS gone. Then, I found his home location.
It was a small home, capable on containing around four people. It was wooden with white paint. The roof was black panelling. The porch had a rocking chair and a table with some empty glasses filled with half-melted ice. It walk on the cemented part of the front yard and start approaching the home cautiously.
I knock on the door.
It opens and I see her. It all starts coming back at me. Every time we were with each other. The first time we met. When she first met my parents and when I met hers. When we first kissed. When we went to Canada. Then, some.
I uttered words. I don’t know which but I’m sure I said “I’ve…moved on.”
I think back to when we were on the couch. Me on one end, her head on my lap, asleep. She wakes up slightly and asks me a question. One I’d thought would always be true.
“Would you love me forever?”