Sun light streamed through Onni's sheer white curtains. The light seemed to dance about her closed eyes. She thought of how he would hold his hand out shielding her face. How he would tease her by moving his hand back and forth, wiggling his fingers as the light seeped through. But now as she opened her eyes, she saw that she left the window open and the curtains were blowing softly. She rolled around in her silk sheets taking in how slippery and soft they were. A chill went down her spin as ghostly fingers traced over the hyperpigmentation on her back. She arched her back as though the touches were real.
She pulled the sheets back and sat up. She stared at her reflection in her gold mirror that hung opposite her bed. She took down the scarf she was wearing and reached out for the almond oil on her bed side table. She tipped it over and she thought of the playful way he would take the oil making her reach for it. She unscrews the top and rubs the oil in between her hands like the gentle way he would rub her thighs. She unraveled the bantu knots and combed through her hair, all while never breaking contact with her reflection. Phantom images of him staring at her through the mirror played in her mind. He used to spend the whole morning watching her get ready.
Onni got up and grabbed her blue robed, she walked out of her room and down the hallway to her kitchen. For some reason, the hallway seemed longer and daker. Shadows of them messily kissing their way to her bed played out before her and she had to shake her head to regain composure. She walked into the kitchen and saw an outline of herself at the stove making her infamous pink strawberry pancakes. She walked to the fridge and took out the only thing he never touched. A cup of apple sauce.
She sat at the island bar and ate the apple sauce slowly, savoring the missing memories. Tears fell as she swallowed the empty tasting desert.
Auther's note
Wrote this a few days ago after getting over a man I should have never been attached to in the first place. I think this pandemic has left me vulnerable to any form of human connection. Anyways it's over now and I am feeling better
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Manic Pixie: Black Girls and the Everyday
Short StoryA collection of stories about black women and girls living their lives. Including stories of love, heart break, depression, fantasy, and pure joy. Please note that most of these stories are first drafts and will likely be updated as I work on them...
