Thank You

Home

The next minutes are just a blur. Time passes by too quickly, or is it too slowly ? The images of the world around blend together to form one big abstract painting with no sense whatsoever. It feels like this is the way I've been seeing the world for too long and suddenly my mind is getting tired. Day after day, my world isn't only grey, it also becomes more and more distant, as if you had a hand on the wheel, but the wires were cut short. Nothing seems to be able to clear my mind anymore. Or it seemed.

Cate pushes the door softly, barely making it creak, but her muscles tightening at every small sound. She holds it open and helps me walk in, her left arm still wrapped around my thin body. Her touch is support to me, but it still is light, just as if she was scared to break me with her bare hands. As we make our way inside the house, she turns back and locks the door in the same silence, struggling as she still holds me but I know she would never let me go. She still supports me as we step into the first room on our left, and I only need a second to recognize a kitchen. It's oddly modern, black and white, cold, the wooden covers failing in warming up the place. It doesn't fit her. It doesn't look like her. We walk through the room, reaching another door she unlocks not without a struggle.

The next room is full of her. It feels left out. Out of time. Untouched. The walls are still covered in an old yellowish tapestry with a barely visible flower pattern cut in the middle by three rows of white tiles, scratched and sometimes broken to places, but still clean as I would've expected from her. It looks as if everybody had dumped their old closet and cabinets, liberating a sent of aging wood. The small room is lit by a single light bulb hanging by it cable over a tiny formica table framed by a couple of chairs coming from the same decade. She drops you off on one of them, transferring all of your weight, a relief and a delight for her back. She doesn't sit one the other chair right across the table as you thought she would though, and stays standing, looking at you with an unreadable expression painted on her face. She doesn't bats an eyelash for a few seconds before shaking her head slightly, like shaking a thought out, and smiles right to me.

"I will make something warm for us to drink now, alright ?"

I do not get any time to answer or even nod, she already has her back turned on me the second after I let the information sink in. She fidgeting with a wooden spoon as she looks around in the numerous cupboards surrounding the room. I'm not exactly sure what she picks up but she seems assured. Soon enough she has to let go of that spoon and focuses her attention on the small stove standing in the corner. I watch her as she toils, her slender and smart figure moving as if it were dancing. Each step she takes, as small as it is, is the most graceful one I believe to have ever seen. Her short hair swings around her face, her golden locks framing her face to the perfection in an intricate dance I surely could watch for hours.

"I hope hot chocolate is alright."

Everything about her is mesmerizing. It's just as if I was watching a movie scene, magical, fake, too elegant to be true, only she is real, and she is right in front of me. Each and every second in her presence changes my vision of the world just the slightest bit, even though just a few moments ago I felt like I lost all connections I could have ever built with her. The simplest of things look like the most wonderful of spectacles when she performs them. I can't help but stare. And for a second I think the blur isn't as bad anymore. For a second it's alright. For a second I'm alright.

No words are spoken, but none are needed either. The silence between us is neither awkward nor uncomfortable, it feels right once again. Some kind of understanding between the both of us without even having to share words or stares. The connection isn't dead. I thought so but it is stronger than I could've imagined. This too, untouchable. How wonderful the things she's around are. Hopefully the things she cares about.

She turns around, two cups in hands, the smoke even avoiding her face, not even daring to hide or blur her gorgeous face. Her smile illuminates the room, but I can see the tiredness in her eyes. She is good at hiding, but I know better, and instantly I blame myself for making it harder for her. If it wasn't for me, she would be at peace, sleeping by now, worries off of her shoulders. She sits in front of me on the other formica chair and pushes one the mugs towards me with two of her skinny fingers. She leans back and crosses her legs, looking right into my eyes with the same hiding smile. The silence is bearable, it has changed now that she faces me but both of us can stand it. But I know though, that I shouldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I haven't seen most of it, but your home seems beautiful."

Her smile freezes just a bit and I can't tell if it's because she is surprised or hurt by my few words. Language has never been my forte. She tilts her head and bites her bottom lip, seemingly thinking about what to say to me. The words are simple. The sentence is short. But her voice, her voices expresses all the feelings I wish she didn't feel.

"You have seen it all. This is home."

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i'm sorry about what i did after i posted the chapter before this one. i'm safe i promise. i'm trying i promise. i will be fine. i owe that to the people who care about me and i owe it to myself firstly. thank you for everyone's concern and kindness.