Part 1- Fragile Relationships

3 1 0
                                    

    I watched as cars and people walk by the glass window of the restaurant. My booth wasn't that comfortable but I was already feeling tense, so what was a little more discomfort. Looking around me I noticed that none of the people here were alone, except me. I mean I was the one that invited my mom but of course she was late. Again.

    A particular group of people caught my attention. It was a family of three. A mother and her two children, one of each gender. They were laughing at something the little boy had just said. The mother reached over ruffling his hair tenderly. I felt this sense of dread creep on me and only grew when the voices a couple tables over grew in fever.
  
   It was a couple of teens who looked like they were ready to start swinging. The boy with dark hair and eyes said something to the other, fairer, boy. The fair boy lunged when a girl looped her arms around him, holding him back with difficulty. He stopped struggling, his back now to me, he shook his head. He had to of said something to the other based off of his expression. The boy stormed passed me and out the door. The girl trailing behind, hesitating, she ran after the fair-haired boy. "​Michael!", ​ she yelled.

    Ah, so Michael was his name. Such an angelic name, looks fit the description too. Such pent up aggression to the one he recently thought of as a friend. The girl seemed conflicted with whom to stay with. Who gets the girl, type of situation? Side with her friends or boyfriend? 

   I wonder if this is how all relationships go. Do they grow and flourish, to only die? A seed planted that if nourished and cared for could grow into the most beautiful thing. But all things die eventually. Maybe, that doesn't exactly mean it loses its beauty, but can always be remembered through eternity. In death there is no time, so all relationships can be seen as memories that'll live on forever. I wonder if that will be my relationship with my mom after today.

 The door behind me opened. All I could think about was how fragile flowers can be, even those with few petals. 

Not Just A ViewerWhere stories live. Discover now