Bus Stops ✓

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"the end."
i whispered.

"the end?"

my six year-old sister, emmie, spoke in a soft whisper. the wind carried her breath as she puffed her cheeks out in the cold. i softly laughed and pinched her red nose.

"yes. she and the prince never met again."

the bus stop was empty. it was only the two of us — my little sister and me. it was december twenty-seventh and the air felt cold and chilly. but despite the freezing temperature, we both held our breaths and waited for emmie's ride to her friend's birthday party.

my sister leaned closer for my warmth as i looked around. it had been quite a lot of days since i had been here. since i had been in a bus. since i had last talked to carter. ever since then, i had stopped hoping for him when i realized that was probably the beginning and the end. we had met for the mutual happiness but not the kind that lasts forever.

it was so cold i could barely feel my fingers and toes, and for a fleeting moment, i thought it would have felt warmer — better — if carter was here. it would have felt good if his hands were here to hold my cold ones. he was always doing that back then, whenever i'd complain that the weather was nipping. he'd let me borrow his black hoodie for the whole trip, and let me listen to his playlists that i would — doubtlessly — never get tired of.

a lone crystal tear threatens to get out of my eye (and probably, out of my heart too) but i did my best not to let it drop. i was tired of wiping tears, because these past few days, it seemed like it was the only thing i'd been doing.

"there they are!" emmie squealed as a mint green car came into view.

i stood up and grasped my sister's hand. smile, i thought to myself.

somehow, between my mind and my heart, i thanked carter. i may not have spent a longer time with him, but our time together was enough to be cherished.

and to be loved.