Unfinished Paintings

Him

10: 47 pm.

49 Missed Calls. 73 Messages

I silence my phone as it buzzes yet again. I stare blankly at the unfamiliar road ahead for a few seconds and place my earphones back into my ear, hoping the strong chords of Boulevard of Broken Dreams will drown my thoughts. Well not really thoughts. My mind is surprisingly blank. My body feels calmer than ever. They say your life flashes before your eyes or that you think of the people you love the most.
But maybe when you're prepared for it. Maybe when you want it, you feel ready.

And I was ready. I had thought about this for days, for weeks. I had even thought about how.
Today as I left school, I knew deep-down that this was the day. I remember feeling more prepared than ever. I had cycled by my house, breathed a silent goodbye and pedalled on to what  I assumed would be my death.

A truck whizzes by on the Highway and I pull myself back to reality. They call you strong and tell you you'll get through this. They don't realize how much braver you need to be to leave everything and everyone behind. I clutch the handles of my cycle and pedal on, with the cool monsoon breeze sifting through my hair, almost cleansing my mind, giving me few last moments of surreal peace.

I hear my name being called out. A car pulls up behind me. As I see him walk towards me, the street light reflects of his brown eyes making them look like pools of golden honey. His hair  falling perfectly and almost effortlessly on his well-sculpted face. I recognize that smile instantly.

He knows my name?

"Hey, you okay? "

I'm not. He can see that. I feel hot tears gushing down my cheeks. My face is flushed as he embraces me.

The warmth of his hug grounds me. The magnitude of what I was about to do hits me a little too suddenly. I'm shaking as his calming voice echoes through my ears. Unfortunately, they're pounding too hard for me to comprehend his words.

The next few minutes are a blur of tears, trembling hands and soothing words. I'm quite now. I stare placidly ahead, not knowing what to do or say. We stand on the cold highway for a bit, almost frozen in time.

"Let's get you home, okay?", he says, finally breaking the silence.

I sit in the car to  find a familiar smell. I can't place it, but I feel it almost magically surging through my body and washing my fears away.

"Want to hear some music?" he asks as the familiar strums of Greenday blast through the radio.

I find myself grinning.

He knows my name.

Maybe today wasn't the day after all.