[37;; Salty.]

137 7 1
                                    

Everything tastes the same, cold, or just tasteless.
Yet sadness tastes salty.

Vincent stares out the window of his place and sets the cup of coffee down on the window sill. Feeling tears run down his face. It was a bit hot outside, but it felt cold inside. He looks around his apartment. Not knowing the reason why he was sad.

He wasn't crying out loud. Or hitting the walls. Or anything. Just the years streaming down his face and dropping down to the floor. Tiny water droplets.

Sometimes, water drops reminded him of jellyfish. Imagine tiny jellyfish just streaming out of your eyes. That would be weird as hell, right?

Slumping to the ground, his back faces the wall as he leans against it. He feels cold, yet everything around him is warm. Not bothering to try and wipe the tears away. Looking down at the hard, cold floor.

Rody was eating an ice cream as he biked down a street. Holding it firmly in one hand as his other hand was on the bike handle. It was hot out, and he was heading home from work. Well, he had gone to the shop first to get ice cream and then left. So he was heading back from the ice cream shop.

Looking around, he crosses the street. It wasn't that hard to control the bike with one hand, but he did have to be more careful than usual. Crossing the street and then turning.

Passing by the fountain and then making it somewhat close to his street. He stops for a moment to use his other sleeve to wipe off some of the melted parts of the ice cream off of his wrist. Before finishing it, being left with the cone. Eating the cone as he sat on his bike with one foot on the ground and the other on the seat.

Rody looks up at the sky for a moment to admire the moon coming out slowly as the day goes from a light orange pink to a dark color of light purple and dark blue.

Hopping back onto his bike, he continues to glide on through the street. Being less careful than before but still making sure that nothing was in his way to make him fall or suddenly come to a stop.

Once he made it to his apartment building, the sky was already a dark ish color, and it was getting a bit colder. He rushed inside before it got too late. Rody still had the locket around his neck. Finally crashing onto his couch inside his apartment and staring up at the ceiling.

Vincent was finally recollecting himself as he got up and wiped away his tears with a napkin. Small circles of light pink circling his eyes, either puffiness or the tears had some kind of other affect.
Staring out the window, he saw his faint reflection. His eye bags mix in with the pink slightly. Vincent sighs before sitting down at his desk and slamming his head onto the notebook. Mumbling something into it before raising his head back up.

Staring at the pictures of Rody, he's drawn.
Pages, and pages.
It's a good place to say that he's having trouble experiencing love.

WORDS: 542

✦°『THAT 𝘉𝘐𝘛𝘊𝘏 𝐈𝐒 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞!?』←| 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎Where stories live. Discover now