What I Love About You...

29

Madison

The first light of morning breached through the dusky grey curtains, the warmth hinting at a new day.

The bed felt empty beside me, void of his presence; his side was unoccupied and the room was silent.

I sit up with the thoughts of wishing the circumstances weren't rough.

Because if they weren't, I'd kiss him, hug him, and believe him if he told me how much he cared about me.

I'd be the idiot in love with someone who never saw me as human, but a worthless bet.

Drawing my knees close to me, the coldness of the room pressed against my skin, echoed by Penguin, his toy, lying forgotten on the floor.

A soft knock echoed through the quiet, startling me into an outburst, calling out to grant entry.

Christian emerged, cradling a take-out bag inscribed with the name of our favorite diner.

"Hungry?" His words rang out, positioning the bag beside me on the worn oak nightstand.

"No." Came my retort, gaze affixed on the room's vacant wall.

"You should eat." He adjusted his posture, standing tall, his hands burrowed in his pockets, casting an eye on me.

His hair was messy and he looked tired.

"I'll eat later." I stand up, slipping on my jeans with haste.

"Why later?" He countered, maintaining his stance, but swiveling his head to catch my every movement.

"You said to stay just for last night...it's morning. Then you said you would leave me alone." I gather my shoes to speed off.

He takes his left hand and rubs his eyes only using that hand.

He then grabs the bag of food and holds it towards me, "Take this."

I accept, snatching the bag from him, and proceeding to exit.

Pausing at the front door, I felt a firm grasp on my elbow, holding me back.

"I'm sorry, Madison. You have no idea...but I'm also not because if it wasn't for this we would have never met and I would never have learned to love." He says before finally letting me go and walking to the kitchen.

My gaze trailed him until his silhouette disappeared.

Crossing the front yard, I ventured to my car, letting the waterfall of emotions flood freely, envisioning diving deep, never resurfacing from the tempest within.

~~~

When I get home, I sit at the counter and put the bag down, then rummage through it and take out a plastic plate covered with a plastic lid.

I took it off and there were chocolate chip pancakes already cut up for me just the way I like it.

Then I pulled out a small half-cut box of fries since I told him I loved potatoes, especially fries.

It's an unusual breakfast concoction understood only between the two of us.

Subconsciously, I slide the plate away from me a few inches and cradle my face in my hands, stifling my weeping.

Those cherished little gestures of his, I would experience no more.

It tormented me how fucked up he was and how I wanted to be with him.