Stuck On The Puzzle

Chapter 19 - (Alex's POV)

Cigarette smoke filled the air, and I was sat on the bench in the park with my hood up listening to The Strokes. Anything reminded me of Natalie. My box of Marlboros, the necklace I still wore, even listening to music that we both used to listen to together. I sent her letters every three or four times a week. Wether she was getting them or not I don't know but I was sure I had the right address. Why wasn't she trying to contact me after half a year. Maybe she was through with me but I was determined to try even if she didn't want to see me. I still loved her, more than anything. She meant more to me than music. And that's saying something. I stood up stamping on my cigarette and started walking back to Matt's. Tomorrow was another day in the studio recording a new song called Fireside. I'd written it about her a few months after our breakup. As I trudged up the hill towards the gates I could see a couple in the distance kissing. "Oh great." I though to myself. Another thing to remind me of her. I approached them and heard them whispering to each other. "I love you." He says. She kisses him and they both laugh clinging onto each other walking past me. I kick a stone and it flys past the gate and then onto the road. I felt my eyes tear up as I began to think of how me and Natalie used to kiss. How sweet her lips were and her touch.

I sat outside on the balcony watching New York light up slowly. The sky was dull and black, and the stars and moon twinkled looking down on us. I went back inside and grabbed some paper and a pen. I had to write to her again. I put the pen to the paper and struggled to think of how to start it. Then and idea struck my mind,

________________________________
Dear Natalie,

My friend once told me, he liked this girl because of her hands. And I found it absurd that anyone would develop feelings over one feature, and not care about the rest. It wasn't until you used your hands to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed; and I could feel your firm grasp pull me in closer, and my insides exploded, and my head buzzed with bliss. And the first night you slept over, you fell asleep with your hand laid over my stomach.
And your fingers felt like fire that I didn't mind burning my skin. The first time we got drunk was the first time you ran your fingers through my hair, and my god I was hooked. I'd drink forever if it meant you'd never stop. And in public you'd hold my hand, and rub your thumbs in little circles that left me wanting you more, no matter what you would never let me go. I was glued to you, and I honestly didn't mind. And when you saw me kiss that girl in the pub, I saw your lips quiver with fear. And then afterwards I regretted it, and wanted you to brush your fingers over my lips before I pulled you in and kissed you like I'd never done before. With your hands on my hips, leaving no space between us. And when I'd got that flight back to New York, it was then that I realised I never wanted you to go. It's now that I finally understand why hands were the only feature that mattered.

Alex
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I took the pen off the paper staring at my writing and a tear escaped from my eye and splattered the ink. "Fuck." I mutter padding it but it only made it worse. The word 'God' was slightly smudged, but I folded it up anyway and put it in the envelope ready to send to her tomorrow.