Saul had taken away all of your books as well as your laptop and left you with some art supplies and a sketchbook. He said that you were going to run yourself dry with everything you were doing and forced you to take a break.
You stared at the paper and it seemed to glare back–taunting you with its emptiness.
"Ooh, what do we have here?"
You came into the living room with your hands behind your back, a surprise ready for your mum.
Handing her the paper, she analyzed it with a fond eye. You sat beside her on the couch and began explaining the drawing.
"We had to draw a picture of something we love."
"Yeah? And what did you draw?"
You pointed to the paper with a large smile.
"Momma, that's you, silly!"
Farah's eyes grew wetter as she stared at her daughter. She pulled you into her lap and kissed your temple.
"My little artist."
A knock. That's what broke the non-existent staring contest. Looking up, your gaze was caught with Saul's crystal blue eyes. They reminded you of the ocean–a day at the beach.
You always liked his eyes.
But you liked your mum's eyes more.
Maybe that's why you liked chocolate and the color brown so much.
"Come on. We need to head back to my office."
Saul watched as you slowly scooted off the bed, purposefully tossing the sketchbook on the ground.
You followed him to the school and walked in silence with him
"This isn't the way."
You were simply ignored as he continued down the familiar hallway.
Saul stopped and grabbed your arm and you stared at the door with disgust.
"I don't want to be here."
It was the most you had said in these past few months. It was the most emotion you expressed.
"Go inside."
You looked at him with a blank expression.
"For me. Please."
Begrudgingly, you wriggled your arm out of his grip and dragged yourself to the door. It was already unlocked so you pushed the door open, hoping not to collapse from the onslaught of emotions that were creeping up on you.
There was movement coming from in the kitchen which put you on alert.
"Which one is this?"
"That's the salt, we need sugar."
You put the container of salt down, grabbing the one right next to it.
"Why don't you just leave them in the containers they come in?"
Your mum stopped stirring and looked up before shrugging her shoulders.
"I guess I just like to be extra sometimes."
The two of you shared a laugh before Farah went back to mixing. When she was finished, she handed you the spoon to lick the brownie batter off.
"How is it."
You gave her a thumbs up while continuing to lick the chocolate-y goodness.
Footsteps. Footsteps broke you out of your daydream.
Why were there footsteps?
No one is supposed to be here.
She steps out.
No.
She is supposed to be dead.
She's not supposed to be here.
She steps forward.
You take a step back.
Her arms are wide open.
You shake your head.
It'd be so easy just to-
No.
She's not even here.
It's not even real.
But it seems so real.
Why? Why does your mind do this to you?
Why did she have to go in the first place?
Her arms are still wide open.
You want to just run and jump into her arms.
Her warm, comforting arms.
And look into her brown eyes that you loved so much simply because they were hers.
You always wanted to take a look at her eyes one more time.
But you couldn't.
Because she's not here.
"I'm here."
You shake your head.
You want to get out. You need to get out.
"Yes, I am. I'm here."
"No you're not," you cried. "You're gonna be gone when I open my eyes. Just like all the other times."
"I promise; I'm here. I'm real," she coaxed gently.
Sometimes, sloths think their arms are tree branches and they'll grab onto them, leading them to fall to their doom.
That's what you felt like. A sloth of all things.
Because you thought that the moment you were convinced any of this was real, you'd fall to your own doom.
One that involved a life without anyone.
One that made you wake up and realize that Farah really was gone.
Because if you grabbed on to Farah, only to realize that she wasn't there, that made it all real.
And you didn't quite want it to be real yet.
But it was just so tempting.
Her body wash was something you craved to smell. The scent of the lotion she used.
So you decided to reach.
And hope that this branch was real.
Tears flew out before you could stop them.
You couldn't remember the last time you cried–hell even cracked a smile.
But it didn't matter right now. Because right now, all that mattered was that you could smell the lavender lotion she always used.
You could look into her brown eyes instead of chocolate as a reference.
You could feel the warmth that radiated off of her body.
She wasn't dead.
And as much as you feel betrayed right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care.
Because she was here.
And you hoped and hoped that you could hug her for all of eternity.
"Sweetheart, I'm home!"
You came tumbling down stairs and into her arms.
"Momma!"
Watch movies with her for all of eternity.
"This movie makes no sense," you said grabbing a handful of popcorn.
Farah shrugs and pays attention to the screen.
"Well we can make fun of it together then."
Make brownies with her for all of eternity.
You gasped as your mum wiped a smudge of batter on your nose with an innocent look on her face.
You chuckled and grabbed a handful of flour.
"Oh it's on!"
And listen to her voice for all of eternity.
"I'm here, my little artist."
You would hold on just a little tighter.
"I'm not leaving. Not again."
