Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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Clementine stared at the picture, her face lit up by the blue light in the dark, not blinking until her eyes started watering. She was starting to get a headache from the eye strain.
Throwing the phone back on the bed, she exhaled and turned to face the other side.
She couldn't believe it.
There it was, plain as day, posted on her phone - by the crazy hair girl no less - a picture of the two of them, arm in arm. As if they were...a couple!
She hated that. Them instead of us.
She closed her eyes and let it hit her. The realization of what just happened. Was happening. What was taking shape in font her eyes, while she, helplessly, was a bystander.
She felt she was no longer the main character in her story. She was just... a passive reader. A bystander, somebody thrown into oblivion.
They followed each other on instagram, of course. And as a byproduct, she need up following some of his friends, and they her. One of them was the girl with the crazy hair, whom she now followed back. She checked to see her name again, Isabella. Of course.
Clementine swallowed, collecting her courage again. She couldn't help it, she kept going back to the pictures, trying to analyze every little thing. Analyzing what was happening with friends of friends. How this happened...but it was no use. Clicking on his profile was like a hit of serotonin to her brain, that she definitely needed but knew she shouldn't.
How easy it was, she thought, to fall into a hole you never thought you'd get in.
Yes, this wasn't good for her mental health. And yes she was so far removed now that there was certainly a shift. But she still couldn't believe it. How quickly things change, when you're no longer actively trying to keep something alive.
Clementine didn't want to get out of bed. She thought it was Saturday, and the picture was time stamped last night. She had nothing planned, and the long stretch of day ahead of her was as intimidating as it was empty.
So she drifted off, dreaming of Zico. Except it didn't look like Zico, but she knew it was him, somehow.
