The Inconspicious Twist of Fate

C11 - P1

The days went by, and Isolde found herself getting caught in a loophole. Those days that were dark and monotonous, blending into one another like spilled ink. Those days that seemed to be repeating themselves.

She drags herself out of bed after insomniac nights, takes her pills, attends her lectures while escaping the walking mnemonic of her past. The rest of the day was a drunken blur, a smudge between reality and complete oblivion.

What started off as a blessing had unsuspectedly morphed into a curse. She was trapped. Trapped in the past that dragged to today.

She had seen him today. From afar. He hadn't noticed her, but to Isolde he was unmistakable among the crowds of faceless people.

She'd say nothing about him changed, but something had. Despite him still being the center of attention, he no longer adorned that bright personality that once bubbled within him. His eyes no longer sparkled, matted by the nightmares they've endured. His dimples had ceased to show themselves in the skin that once radiated warmth, and slight stubble strewed itself across his jaw, a jaw that now became impossibly define with the loss of his weight and muscle. The pure definition of a golden retriever now the distant relative of the grim reaper himself.

Octavius.

The apartment was an obscure mess. Fridge empty, dishes dirty, shades tugged shut for the third day in a row.

It was so blank. Her face, which she glared at through empty eyes. In the mirror the corpse bride stared back, the skin around her eyes purple, lips blue, complexion paling with every tick of the hour's hand.

Outside, the streets of the city were buried underneath a heavy blanket of shimmering snow. No longer were the roofs mahogany, neither were the trees gilded with prodigious autumn leaves.

The patter of Isolde's bare feet bounced off the hardwood floor as she paced around the apartment gathering her clothes.

She felt constricted, like the walls were caving in on her, making her suddenly claustrophobic. The dim light that trickled in through the closed curtains not enough, Isolde decided to escape the suffocating heat of the inside, and numb herself with the crisp gusts of icy wind against her face outside.

Once she had successfully clothed herself, there was still one final piece missing.

She rushed to her room, rummaging the tiny closet in search of an old cardboard box. When she spotted it in the corner of the top shelf, she hesitated before opening it.

An overwhelming surge of emotions whirling through her as she breathed in the dust coating the box's lid.

Finally, she braced herself, pulling the lid open. Inside lay a clutter of random objects, varying from papers to pictures, even clothing items.

Isolde pulled out a funny looking hat, mostly red, but animated with Christmas themed images on its earflaps. At the end of it's pointy peak, a white pompom wobbled with every motion.

She pulled it on, shakily closing the box back up before she made her way out into cold February...