I sat on the pavement, hidden between two cars, lost in reminiscence of long ago. The cigarette in my hand, so badly craved such a moment ago, hung unnoticed. Lost in thoughts, I put it to my lips and exhaled without feeling anything, because you were always the more potent drug.
Words flew back and worth, both of us creating a sketch of what it had been like to be with each other. The cold air dissolved into memories in front of me, leaving behind an emptiness I had buried deep inside the depths of my heart.
There were sounds all around me – noises, rather – of the traffic and the horns and the buildings and the cries and the people going around their daily business. The moon hung, far away, looking as lost and misplaced as I felt.
All I could remember was us, and the questions that surrounded us. Why your touch felt icy but made me feel warm. Why I hung onto every word of yours, as if it was the be-all and the end-all of my existence. Why it felt soothing rushing through the night with you, as if throwing all my troubles away. Why the sound of your voice was the one thing that made me want to always be near to savour it. Why your fingers felt so perfect in mine.
And why it felt like home just to lie next to you, and feel your warm body heating up mine.
We always lived in our own bubble – a happy, laughing bubble that was as comfortable as it was intense. You brought out the recklessness in me, and I burrowed deep into your comforting depths.
But just like that… you left. And it left me more anxious than I could ever have imagined. A thousand thoughts racing through my head, each worse than the last.
I inhaled deeply, willing the melancholy in my soul to flow out with the smoke I exhaled. But as I got up to leave, I knew that I would always walk with loneliness unless I walked with you, and I would always look over my shoulder, hoping to see your face in the crowd.
Title: Nada Surf. Killian’s Red.