𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒚 ( Unfinished)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

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𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭
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Sunday, February 26th, 2023

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, enveloping our intertwined forms in a warm embrace, I cherished the tenderness of the moment.

Her head found refuge in the curve of my neck, and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath against my skin painted a lullaby of serene sleep.

A cascade of soft, tousled hair spilled gently across my shoulder, a delicate touch I relished against my exposed chest.

My fingers, like artists with a silent canvas, painted tender strokes and traced invisible circles on her thigh, the velvety softness beneath my touch a secret treasure.

Yet, an eerie creaking sound shattered the tranquility as the door cracked open. A spectral figure emerged, its presence casting an ominous shadow.

Water followed, streaming around their feet, its intrusion growing into a steady deluge that swallowed the room.

In a blink, when my gaze returned to her, she had vanished, leaving behind only the memory of her touch.

As time flowed on, the water's embrace tightened, surging higher with each heartbeat. It climbed the walls, distorting the room's contents in its liquid mirror.

The room's colors bled into the encroaching tide, melding decor and water into a swirling dance of disarray.

-

I jolted awake, my breath ragged. The room remained dry, devoid of any flooding, and Elizabeth was absent from her spot beside me.

My gaze darted to the doorway, coinciding with her entrance. She wore a well-worn shirt that seemed to carry stories of its own.

Ones I wish I were a part of.

Clutched in her hands was perhaps the most peculiar mug I had ever laid eyes on - a pottery project that looked like a whimsical creation from a single attempt.

Gracefully, she maneuvered toward me, managing not to spill a drop as she settled onto my lap. I leaned back on my forearms, providing her the room she needed.

My eyes shifted from her hands to meet her gaze, curiosity brimming. "Is that... meant for me?" I inquired, my tone rife with intrigue.

In response, a deliberate shake of her head conveyed her answer, and I observed as she took a measured sip. Suppressing a roll of my eyes, though not fast enough to evade her notice, I audibly sighed.

With gentle motions, I placed my palms against her bare legs, my touch gliding upward along her thigh as I sought to etch each contour into my memory.

Her words punctuated the quiet moment, drawing my attention. "You used to be a lighter sleeper," she noted.

"You used to be much nicer." I teased, my fingers skimming beneath her shirt, tracing the path of bare skin along her waist.

Her laughter didn't ring out like it might have once; instead, a playful roll of her eyes accompanied her gentle smile.

As her fingers toyed with the fabric of my shirt, a hint of sadness flashed in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "I guess people change," she uttered.

I paused for a moment, the weight of her words settling in the space between us. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the fragile emotions swirling beneath the surface.