rupture - l.s.

Chapter 1

My naked feet wander across the cold  floor while I let my favorite song "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Rey vibrate through my apartment at full volume. The walls pulsate due to the bass. The ground vibrates strongly and directs the vibration further through my body.

Blue jeans, white shirt ....

A song can do so much with you. It makes you smile because you feel touched and happy and you can cry because you feel that the person, who is singing, just wants to cry as much as you do. And these were just two examples.

But a favorite one enchants you more. You simply have this urge to sing along or at least to hum with at least. Or your muscles twitch and scream ''I want to move!''. And I do. I sink into the song. Just barely noticing anything.

If I hurt my head in the next moment, then I do not even need to ask how this could happen.

But you fit me better than my favorite sweater

And I know, that love is mean

And love hurts

But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby ...

When the refrain starts, I stop abruptly and take my hairbrush, which is on a table in the kitchen, into my hand and sing into it, imagining that it is a microphone and all my books on the shelf in front of me are my clapping and cheering audience. I'm not singing loudly, but I'm perfectly moving my lips in sync to the song. You might as well believe I was just giving a private concert. 

After a while, I finally move my body to the music and dance again.

I will love you 'til the end of time

I would wait a million years

Promise you'll remember that you're mine ...

And despite my trance, I hear a shrill, loud ring. I jump a little and immediately drop the brush on the hard ground. I shrug my shoulders and look at the hairbrush, which is now sitting comfortably in front of my feet.

When I realized that the ringing came from my door and has just repeated itself again, I pause the beautiful song quickly and pick up the brush. Quickly I put it on a table and then walk to the door.

When I open it, I look into a face, which I have now not seen for more than six months and was done with long since. At least, I thought.

Loud memories come up, feelings, emotions, thoughts. Everything. Heat runs through my body - which you can easily sense and see - and I can not help it, which is very embarrassing to me, of course.

But, while others would totally flip out and scream out their soul, I am standing still and wait patiently until he does or says something. I will not be the one who speaks the first word. He came here, not me.

I must admit, I missed him for a very long time and felt incredibly empty without the young man right in front of my nose, however, we both broke each others hearts too much.

I am threatening to totally collapse internally, not yet externally, as he opens his mouth after a feeling of infinite silence. Immediately, a cloud of a weird smell welcomes me - nicotine. Usually, he was always that 'non-smoking'-type of guy and was strictly against smoking. He probably started smoking after our breakup. For if he had smoked secretly, I would have noticed. I would have tasted  it.

My mouth fills for a fraction of a second with his taste, but not as intensively as within a kiss. For a short moment, I am frightened by myself, because I can still taste him after such a long time.