Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

51ˁᵀ CHAPTER

                                         51ˁᵀ CHAPTER 

                                  "Touch has a memory" 

Waking up on the back of a truck is as misleading as it can possibly be.

Elisha doesn’t properly come back to consciousness until a truck passes by rather loudly. It startles her into full awakeness, opening her eyes to a sky dark and fogged. There are still crisps to her side, ones she didn’t fully eat, and the blanket she’d thrown around herself is half down her waist.

The wind blowing against her skin sends shivers up her spine, eliciting goosebumps on her arms and the back of her neck. It can’t possibly be more than seven in the morning, but she stands up anyway, grabbing the blanket again and ignoring the mess of crisps she promises to herself she’ll clean up before returning the truck to Ed.

With a sigh, she jumps off the back of the truck and opens the door to the driver’s side, plopping down on the seat and taking a quick look at herself on the rear-view mirror. Her hair is a complete mess, sticking out all angles, and the bags under her eyes seemed to darken several shades of purple by the night. Her cheekbones are far too prominent, and she could reckon herself as an image of death itself.

God, this is affecting her way more than it should.

Leesh blinks twice before shifting the mirror so she can’t see herself anymore, and then rests her head against the wheel for a while as she breathes in the morning scent and the lack of the coffee steam she’s grown used to. At some point, she’ll have to stop somewhere and get one of those before she completely crashes the truck against some pole.

The smell of gas soon complements the scents already flooding her senses, just after the key has been twisted on the ignition. Somehow Elisha finds it comforting, knowing that at least something will remain constant on the time it’ll take her to complete her course.

It should be worrying – gas leaking and whatnot – but Edwin had warned her of such, and promised it really wasn’t much to worry about. That it was some weird trait of this truck, like it was part of its personality. (Leesha knows how much Ed loves this car so she really wasn’t going to tell him it was just a car. Mostly because she feels the same about the café, so she, better than no one, knows what it’s like to give life to things most people wouldn’t).

She keeps driving down a road with few close to none movement at all, staring out at raw asphalt and a sky that doesn’t seem to enlighten as the hours go by, and the next time she comes to a stop it’s near ten in the morning already.

Elisha parks in front a shop almost empty, but nothing like her so loved one. In any way. This shop is all new and fresh; all artificial lights and scents. All stools are covered by red leather, as well as the seats of all booths (there are booths, for God's sake). The walls are covered by vintage wallpaper, the floor by black and white linoleum tiles, in small diamonds and the counter is black granite, polished and shiny.

By the door there’s a neon sign with a bright ‘welcome’ inviting everyone in, and Elisha feels like sinking into herself until she’s small enough to disappear.

This place is nothing like Dora’s café, where the lights keep turning on and off on their own account; not so relevant during the day when the daylight cuts through the giant windows, but at night is definitely a problem. In that café, there are no booths, just wooden, well-spent tables and chairs, all creaking just like the floor. There, when it’s cold, it’s freezing cold; and when hot, burning hot, there’s really no inbetween, ‘cause the wooden walls won’t let it; the fans are dusted and noisy, seemingly falling off the ceiling.