The Spring Girl
She came a little bit late with a green hoodie jacket stick to her. She waved her hand and smiled a little.
“Sorry I am late,” she said
“It’s okay” he replied with a bright smile, awed by her smile, even sheepishly.
It’s been five weeks since that day, he thought. And it never fails him to recall the memory the first time he had coffee with her. She has effortlessly captivated him, with her smile, her scent, her wild, peculiar thoughts.
But there is always something hidden about her, something dark and locked. As if she was facing the abyss in the stormy weather. As if she was about to dive into the deep blue sea and getting drowned.
She is like a Spring season.
One day she is so bright, another day she is dreary.
One day she is flowery, another day she is hazy.
She always seems like drifting away from the world, like she needs to be saved.
He wants to save her.
But she is a Spring season.
One day she is radiant, another day she is pitch-dark.
One day she smiles to him, another day she shuts herself down.
He wants to light her on.
But one day she is really gone. That smile, that brightness, that good scent, and that brilliant thought, all are gone.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He kept in silence and walked away with the broken heart.
“I wish one day you’ll let anyone cure you, my dear Spring girl.” He said as he turned his back to her, without a smile or goodbye.
She turned her back and walked to that deep darkness.
“No, not you, my dear. It’s not you who can save me” she whispered to herself.