almost

0

Asher

It was dim in the cab ride home from her funeral. Asher's fingers fiddled with the zipper on his charcoal rain jacket. He used his tongue to flick at his one crooked tooth in the back of his mouth, a nervous habit she used to make fun of. She won't be making fun of much of anything anymore. Anger - envy? He didn't know what he was feeling, but all of his actions were spent resenting her. He resented her for leaving him. Leaving him too early in life, leaving him before he could tell her how he really felt.

His thoughts drifted to the girl at the back of the funeral. She arrived late and left early. He asked her parents and their mutual friends - no one knew her, either. She had a porcelain face, not a blemish or beauty mark in sight. Her pale skin had red undertones that brought out the blue in her eyes. She was the kind of beautiful a person couldn't describe, but not the kind of beautiful people tripped over themselves for a chance to know. Her hair fell over her shoulders like black petals of a rose, and the one dark streak of violet among the blackness made her hard to forget. His eyes had traced her features, wondering who she was and how she knew Eden. Asher meant to introduce himself, but the unknown girl disappeared before he was given the chance.

Writing in his journal, he opened a blank page. With the black ink of a cheap pen stolen from a hotel, he wrote two words.

Anger.

Envy.