thirty-nine

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even worth it?

The cold, icy feeling didn't leave Cher. Even after Jack disappeared. There was still a feeling of coldness in her fingers.

Her thumb brushes over the fingers. A small wave of coldness comes over Cher every time. She stares out her window. She hadn't closed it ever since Jack left.

He might have looked familiar, but there was no doubt about the look of confusion on his face. He didn't recognise her. He didn't remember anything, by the looks of it.

There was also doubt of the look of coldness in his eyes. Instead of the familiar look of warmth and his familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, there was nothing but emptiness and coldness.

How was she suppose to save him? He didn't recognise her. He wasn't the same Jack.

Was it even worth it?

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