Yellow || hs au

| 78 |

—

Clover

   My eyes are screwed closed and I'm not exactly sure when the last time they were opened was. My hands are folded, resting against my forehead as I listen to my own manual breathing, mixed with the quiet background murmuring of the café. The door will occasionally open and send in a light autumn breeze that's strong enough to tussle the ends of my hair, along with the sound of the busy streets just outside.

   The last month has felt numb. If there were a way to explain it, that would be it. Every day has been the same. I can't even get myself to wake up anymore and I find myself dreading to go to sleep. Sometimes I don't even sleep because I know it won't come. My mind feels like it's constantly racing but at the same time there's absolutely nothing going on inside of my brain.

   The days seem so incredibly long, like the sun just sits in the middle of the sky and it doesn't dare move an inch. Though the clock has no problem ticking away. It ticks and ticks, all day long, taunting me. Reminding me that when each second goes by, it's just been another second without him. Another second in which I find myself praying that he's alive.

   Are we being stupid? Am I being stupid? I've been thinking about it all month, wondering where we went wrong. I'm trying to fix this, but I don't even know what to fix. I don't know how to fix what I'm supposed to fix. Sometimes I find myself wondering if it's even worth it. Nothing seems to be the right answer anymore, every option and idea seems to be the complete wrong choice. I don't know what's right anymore. It feels like every decision I make is wrong and only digs us deeper. It's not fair.

   "Clover."

   I draw in a deep breath, that voice I haven't heard in so long is just right beside me. I clench my jaw tightly, screaming at myself to open my eyes because I'm afraid that if I don't remind myself to do it, I won't. My eyelids snap up and my folded hands drop to rest on the table in front of me. The dim light from the café and the evening sun makes it easier for my eyes to adjust before I glance up to my right.

   "Hi, mom." I breathe, watching as she nods slowly and sits down in the seat in front of me. Her lips are pursed as she looks me over, examining every inch of me as she sets her purse down. "How was the drive?" I ask, both of us knowing full well that I couldn't give a shit less about how the drive was.

   "You look sick, Clover." She voices dully, my lips parting slightly as I stare back at her. I swallow the words threatening to spill from my mouth and instead I sigh, shaking my head.

   "I'm fine, just tired." I answer, leaning back into my chair. She raises her eyebrows slightly as she nods, her wrinkles becoming more noticeable as she slowly ages. We stay silent for a few moments, my eyes fixed on the naked ring finger on my mother's left hand. "You took your ring off." I observe, my mothers gaze dropping to her fingers before she nods shortly, dropping her hands to her lap.

   "The divorce was finalized." She voices, her thin fringe bangs rest over her forehead, her gaze shifting through the small café before she meets my eyes for what seems like the first time in years. "Don't make that face, Clover. You knew it was happening." She hisses, my eyes rolling.

   "Is that what you came here for? Because if it is, you might as well leave." I snap back, having zero respect left for the woman sat in front of me. I shake my head, hearing her let out a sharp and irritated sigh as I drop my gaze to my own hands. My fingers naked as well.