She stood in front of him, holding a hand out. A lopsided grin stretched lazily across her face and almost blinded him with its sheer brilliance, forcing him to blink. She didn’t seem to notice how her angelic features affected him as she repeated her question with an impatient shake of her hand.
Did he want to join her on an adventure?
She smiled even wider as he reached forward to take her hand.1003Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2xuWjfuRtO
He gently set his mug down in the sink, promising himself he’d wash the dishes later even if he knew that was something he’d been promising himself for almost a year now. His mother’s infrequent visits were the only reason that he still had dishes clean enough to eat from, but he knew she only stopped by to beg him to clean himself up and get a life again.
But how could he?
He absently staggered about his apartment, trying to find something to do for the day. Had he not been fired from his job the month before, he might have dragged himself out of his apartment, and had he not gotten into those huge, pointless arguments with his friends and family the week before, he might have gone to see someone.
However, that was not the case.
Finally, he plucked a book from one of the shelves. He wasn’t sure what the book was titled, much less what it was about, but he figured that something, anything, to fill his time was good enough.
He decided that he was done trying for the day after a minute of trying to make sense of the nonsensical words on the first page. He dropped the book on top of a stack of the kind, making a note at the bottom of his very long mental to-do list to put those books back onto the shelves. He undressed himself and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water and let it cascade from his head to the rest of his body, barely minding the temperature.
After all, what did a little bit of cold and a great deal of numbness matter in the end?
Once he had finished showering and dressing himself for bed, he realized the absurdity of it all. Here he was, climbing under the covers even though he hadn’t even had breakfast for the day. Perhaps he had gone insane after all this time, but he found it near impossible to go otherwise, not after what she’d done to him.
He tossed and turned in his bed for a good portion of the day, knowing that he wouldn’t fall asleep. He hadn’t slept in days, after all, but he’d been hoping to get at least an hour or two of sleep. He supposed his thinking had been a little too wishful as he forced himself out of his bed again. He poured himself another mug of coffee and blew on it before taking a sip, which was more out of the force of habit considering the coffee had cooled to room temperature since that morning.
He moved a stack of newspapers from on top of one of the kitchen chairs to the floor beside it and seated himself. He listlessly stirred his coffee, and he couldn’t help but think about her.
He couldn’t help but let her invade his thoughts every moment of every day.
He didn’t want to think of her. In fact, he hated thinking of her. He hated replaying memories of her smile, her laugh, her love. He hated her. Perhaps that was the worst of it. The fact that he hated her often opposed the fact that he needed her, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop himself from hating her, from needing her, any more than he could stop himself from falling into disrepair, any more than he could stop her from leaving him.
He closed his eyes and tried to force the sickening sight of her out of his head. He should have been over her absence, her leaving him, because he knew she’d been gone for a year now and because he had been the one left behind.
The ones left behind still have a chance to live, don’t they?
Yet he wasn’t living, and he hated her for it. He hated her for leaving. He didn’t care whether her leaving was her fault or not. That hardly mattered because he was hurting and because he was numb and because he couldn’t decide whether he should have followed her or not.
All he knew was that she saved him only to cast him back into the abyss. Now he was trapped in his fate, only falling faster and further as time went on. He was never to blame for his hatred of her. He was the one who was left behind, after all.
His problem was that he no longer wanted to live his life. He was caught between lives, hoping to revert everything to what it was once and resisting the new reality that resulted from her absence. He knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, as the rest of dying world increasingly tried to pull him back in. He slammed his mug down on the table. Resolutely, he grabbed a coat and stumbled out the door, hoping he’d be able to follow after her.
Perhaps she would save him again.
