Memories

Memories: Chapter 13

Just a filler chapter. All narration, no dialogue whatsoever. 

Love you guys. 

Xxx.

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For once, my drive home wasn’t mellow and sorrowful, of course, as usual, my mind was elsewhere, dreaming, thinking, wishing, but at the same time, my thoughts weren’t so . . . sad.

            My mind was set on one thing and one thing only. I don’t really need to spell it out, I guess. I was thinking of Jason. I was thinking of his beautiful, grey eyes, of his voluptuous, Grecian god figure, of his melodic, honey voice. Everything that was Jason was everything that I craved for.

            With the gracious red-light above my head, I closed my eyes for a moment to just think. Nothing like this had ever felt so amazingly surreal, so beautifully fictional. But the best part about it was that it was all so true.

            Too good to be true, I should say.

            I smiled then, his quirky, little smirk lighting up in my head. I sighed, but it wasn’t a tired sigh, or a stressful sigh, or even one of anger or grief.

            It was that love-sick, first-crush, fifteen-and-in-love sort of sigh, like when a girl comes back from her first date and is leaning against the door, with her arms across her chest, and she just sinks down to the floor with the goofy grin on her face. You know, that sort of thing.

            But it was different though, it wasn’t like I was in love. No, that was impossible.

            My body hummed, buzzing with pure joy, my essence just glowing with a fiery, red passion. My fingers tapped to some unknown beat, or maybe to the thrumming of my own rapid heart racing, pulsing within the tight confinement of my chest. I mumbled soft, little nothings to myself, singing almost, my teeth sunken deep into my lower lip, a small smile breaking to the surface of my face.

            But that didn’t mean I was in love. No, not at all, I’m positive on that.

            So, turning every corner with easy, not feeling as if the world should take me now or end any maddening pain, I finally made it smoothly up my drive way, where I parked delightedly.

            It was so strange, this newfound feeling. Well, I’d felt this before, though it was in a past very far away. It wasn’t new, no not new, just . . . Lost.

            Yes, that’s the word I’m looking for; lost.

            Turning off the car, I swiftly took the key out of the ignition and slid out the seat. I walked comfortably up the now smoother cement, my steps no longer heavy and far more coordinated, and when I opened the door and walked up the stairs of my home, they weren’t struggles or feeble attempts but simple actions, my light floating like my feet over the ground. It was like I was intoxicated with some new air.

            I couldn’t help but breathe more of it in; it was addicting.

            With an unconscious smile faintly tracing my lips, I opened my bedroom door, walking in strangely agile daze, I collapsed on my bed in a new and unfamiliar trance.

            My eyes fluttered close softly. I laid there, not dreading, not wondering, not pondering, not even thinking at all, only breathing. All only laid there and breathed, calmly and quietly, and that was all I planned to do.

            This must be what it’s like; this must be it. It just has to be.

Finally, after a relaxing peace, I lifted open my eyes with a pleasing ease, rising into a lax sitting position. Crossing my legs, one of the other, my hands grabbed at my feet, playing with the shoe-lace. Then, not long after, I stretched my legs out in front of me, just watching them.

            I couldn’t think of anything to say about them.

            Slipping cozily off the matter, I watched the ground, my eyes on the different shadows formed from the light coming through the window. My eyes followed my feet as I walked carefully over to the window pane, the palms of my hand taking a new approach as they rested on the cold sill.

            I looked out the window. Slowly, my hand rose to the glass, hovering right over the surface of the substance. I watched the sliver of space between the two, wondering what it might feel like, to touch it again. Why did I think that it wouldn’t feel the same?

            My fingers made contact with glass. The palm of my hand was pressed tenderly to it, fingers spread out evenly. I waited.

            Nothing.

            I pushed down on the window, my elbow bending. Still, there was nothing. I titled my head against the window, my forehead touching the cool glass.

            I wanted to laugh because it was so funny; for once, it felt good to have felt nothing.

            It felt good to have been right.