OUR FRAME OF MIND

C H A P T E R T W O .

I woke up the next morning, guilt-
The only thing that seemed to linger over me. I knew I shouldn't keep giving him chances, but how could I not. He is my everything-
We have been with one another so long we find that... we are one another.

I stared at his body that was turned away from mine, slowly moving up and down. I often wonder why we are like this, or if we even care for one another. I mean... we have to if we keep finding our way back to one another, right?

At times I felt he was just too afraid to start over and let go. I notice we often confuse the inability to let go with resisting. On the surface, these two things seem to mean the same when in reality things go so much deeper.

"Dexter...", it hurt to talk to him, but I didn't want to not hear his voice.

"Um?", his groan echoed throughout the room silencing the snow that heavily fell outside.

"Nothing..." I smiled to myself watching the back of his neck.

" Stay a little longer." He gripped my wrist as I got off the bed, pulling me back in, but this time wrapped in his arms. I can't ever seem to say no to him, hence me, continuously falling into his trace.

My head laid on his chest listening to his heartbeat as I traced his nose, while he went back to sleep. He was warm. Warmer than the cold words he often doesn't think twice about before and after they exit his mouth.

His face slightly twitched and he pulled me closer burying his face in my chest. The snow howled at the fireplace that sizzled and popped in front of us. A single tear danced down my temple and into my ear, as I ran my finger through his hair watching the streets grow emptier and emptier the heavier the snow fell.

" Don't cry." Dexter lifted meeting my eyes, "you're going to make me feel guilty." He gently wiped my tears pecking me on the lips.

My eyes seemed to sting even more at the sudden act of affection, " Maxine, though we are going through tough times right now-
promise me you won't leave me..."

I laid back on his chest, " Days like this make me know to chose you over and over." He quietly said to himself gazing into the ceiling. 

Bittersweet. When will we realize this isn't love-- it's an attachment. We can't seem to free ourselves from this attachment, because we are not confident in our ability to continue to love ourselves without validation from the other.

* * *

When I woke up, not to my surprise he was gone.

I left the lonely room and made my way to the kitchen. Where I could get a look into the lives of those living near me. The coffee machines noises seemed to wake the complex, as if right on cue-
People could be heard walking through the halls and talking and tending to their daily tasks.

The coffee mixed with the winter-scented candles made me feel somewhat at peace. The smell reminded me of a fresh start.

My phone buzzed on the table.

A single notification appeared across the screen.

" Hey, could you bring me a lunch to the office-
I didn't have time to make one this morning..."

I felt warm and wheezy inside. I began to feel like we were beginning to go back to the way we were before the incident. It felt like the ball was, once again, returning to our court.

Like a hurricane, the incident came and went as it pleased. Causing catastrophic damage and worsening the damage with the waves of tears and emotions that followed. During this period, Dexter and I seemed to lose all trust and respect we have for one another. We failed to realize we were fighting against one another instead of alongside one another against the hurricane when it hit.

* * *

I walked into the elevator holding the bag of food smiling ear to ear.

" Lobby?" A voice called pulling me away from my daze, his aura dark.

I nodded as I stared through the clear elevator down at the passing cars. Time seemed slowed, because the cars carefully followed behind one another, increasing their braking distance, and pedestrians seemed to stay on the sidewalk today.

" Nice to meet you, I'm Maxine" I smiled holding my hand to shake his.

" I'm Stephen." He said still staring out the elevator. His dark hair shagged into a bun and his trench coach buttoned all the way up to his neck.

I retracted my unshaken hand as the elevator stopped.

I practically skipped out of the elevator, walking to his office. Though the cold tampered at my skin the excitement of normality returning warmed me.