Featured by @Romance
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"Why do you make these paper flowers?" He asked, looking at her through the mirror.
"They don't wither like the real ones." She replied, aligning the entire bunch of paper flowers.
"But they don't have the fragranc...
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"Anything that's better than champagne and erases the taste of it." I said to the bartender. "And knocks me out."
I need sleep. In the past fourteen days, I have slept only for eighteen hours in total.
Dalhousie felt the most welcoming when my own city made me feel so suffocated. After the fight with 'he-who-must-not-be-named', I went to my house but that wasn't enough to forget him.
That brought me to Dalhousie. In an absolute unknown city where no one knew me, and I knew no one. Whatever savings I had, I spent it here. After encashing it, of course!
Can't let the man locate me through my card activity.
I thought it would be enough, leaving the city behind, I would leave him too. His memories, his face, his eyes.
FUCK.
But here I am, after two weeks, in some pub hoping the loud music would tone down the voices in my head.
The bartender extended the glass half filled with two ice-cubes in it.
"Did I order already?"
I don't remember ordering. The sleep deprivation has reached my mind, making me absolutely insane.
What do you do when the person who helped you heal hurts you in the most cruel way? Where do you hide? To whom do you run?
"It's from him." The bartender pointed at a guy wearing a leather jacket and tight jeans, hair perfectly gelled. I almost giggled at his 'imma coolest, pick me' behaviour. He looked at me and raised his glass in the air.
On an odd day I would have stared him down and ignored him the hardest but my anger and the betrayal was getting the best of me. I held the drink he offered.
"I think you shouldn't make that mistake. Especially not with that ring still around your finger." A man sitting beside me commented. He looked decent. Actually in this entire club, he was the only one who didn't look like a horny teenager.
"And you are?" Leaning down on the bar table, I asked.
"A man who made that mistake." He showed his ring around his neck. He wore it as a locket. I sat straight in my chair.
Men in love are different creatures. One is grovelling here and mine lied.
Not Agas- him again.
I removed the ring he gave to me and put it into the glass the bartender gave me. A few bubbles popped around as the ring drowned in the glass. The guy in the leather jacket smirked from a distance. I just pushed my chair closer to the guy sitting next to me. He understood it. Both understood it.
"Do you think this is how the Titanic must have drowned? Did it make bubbles too? And if it did, some bodies might have floated on the surface, no?"
