Sometimes I Write Things

Slap!

Emilia walked down the street with the long strap of her light pink purse draped comfortably over her arm. The voices of the children as they laughed and the parents as they pulled them along were a welcome change from the fear which had so long gripped the city. She looked up to the blue sky and smiled. Even the sun seemed brighter.

A gust of fresh wind blew, delivering to her the scents of new grass and flowers. It fluttered the tan jacket she wore and brought on the many pleasantries of spring. Emilia closed her eyes and breathed in the new air of promise with a gladsome smile on her face. The winter had lasted far too long.

She repositioned her bag after the wind and glanced again at the cloudless sky above her as she walked. Everything was forward now.

There was a group of people gathered at the corner where the main street met another, and the happy chatters of their conversation met her ears with some reluctance. Emilia tucked the golden strands of her wind-blown hair back behind her delicate ears and tried not to pay too much attention to them. She knew that she recognized some of the voices. They were people she had loved once, a family in whose company she had found a unique sense of gladness, but still she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

She had little interest in seeing any of them now. The past was a bitter place and one which she had no intention of revisiting. So, she tuned her ears instead to the clack of her heels on the concrete ground as she passed by them.

She crossed the street and headed on her way alone without so much as an exchange of glance or greeting. It was a strange relief to her that she had escaped them all so freely.

Then came the sound of pounding against the pavement from the footsteps which followed her, racing to catch up.

"Emilia!" the familiar voice of a man shouted.

She froze, her blood suddenly seeming to run cold, and she shuddered. It was Alex. She should have known better than to try and pass by him without a word of acknowledgement.

She closed her eyes tight and turned only when she felt the light touch of his hand on her trembling shoulder. There he stood smiling with his hand on his hip, his kind eyes and slender figure just as she last remembered him.

"Alex," she said, lowering her face to avoid his daring gaze.

"Emilia, how goes it? How have you been?" he asked, eager to hear.

Emilia bit her lip in momentary annoyance. It seemed that he was always concerned for her, particularly after what happened with Francis.

"Fine," she said. It wasn't genuine, but she couldn't be bothered with that now. She could scarcely stand to look at him, and all she knew was that she wanted him gone.

Alex seemed hesitant to answer her, but he always had been careful with his words. So, Emilia waited with thinning patience for him to speak and give her a cause for dismissal.

"You know, Emilia, if Francis were here, I think—"

Slap!

A mention of Francis was all that she needed. Emilia struck him right then and there, shutting him up and leaving a bright pink handprint slapped across his tender cheek. She let her hand fall again to her side and stood shaking, her painted lips quavering as rivers of tears streamed down her youthful countenance.

"Don't tell me about him!" she ordered her old friend, crying. "I loved Francis, but he's gone now. So, I don't want to hear anything else about it!"

"Emilia..." Alex sighed, and he grabbed her arms to steady her. "Emilia, I'm sorry, okay? You know I loved him, too." He glanced around at the scores of pedestrians who walked the lively streets of the colorful shopping district and suddenly became self-conscious. "Why don't you come back to my place?" he gingerly suggested. "We can talk there."

Emilia laid her head on her companion's chest and nodded. She sniffled. "Alright."