Restless

"Please come to Jake McCormick's Party!"

"Life is not a fist, life is an open hand waiting for some other hand to enter it in friendship"
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He just stood there and stared at the closet filled with clothes, a lot of things were running in his mind but he couldn't voice them, even though he wanted to there was so many that he didn't know when or how to start.

Three years seven hours and thirteen minutes.

That's how long it was since the last time he was able to breath fully and that was approximately the last time he saw her, his mother, he was sure of the minutes because he counted them.

The closet had different styles of clothes and there where only four things all the clothes had in common; they were all feminine, they all belonged to his mother they all haven't been worn in three years, and the other thing they all had in common was that after three years they all smelled the same, they smelled like Chanel five, his mother's favorite perfume. Lucas briefly smiled at the thought of his mother never having a particular style. There were days when she could be casual  and there were days when she was artistic and other days she was completely sophisticated and business-y. It surprised him that she could stick to just one perfume.

Every shirt and every skirt he looked at reminded him of different memories, they all came flashing at him so fast they almost left him breathless. He touched the very familiar white blouse with black buttons it was the same blouse she wore when she dropped him of for his freshman year, when he was still normal, and the same blouse she wore when they attended his grandparents's anniversary every single year she wore the same blouse he never understood why, but It didn't surprise him because  his mother was mysterious, it was  one of the  things he loved about her.

His hand wandered to a black shirt that had a snake with red eyes on it and he smiled at the memory of when she walked down the stairs with that shirt and black leggings nearly giving his father a heart attack because of how hideous the shirt was and making him close his eyes in bewilderment she didn't understand what was wrong with her outfit, to her they were just clothes, they didn't have any meaning and they shouldn't define her- and the leggings were quit comfortable.
After a some arguing she went and changed into something more 'suitable' for a parent teacher conference. Although he wouldn't have minded if she went to the conference dressed like that, but he didn't want his friends to laugh at him, especially in freshman year, no one would let him forget it.

As he looked at the closet he felt it, it was like a finger with black ink pressing in the center of his chest and it was like he could feel the ink spreading. Depression. He new what he was doing wasn't healthy, because he shouldn't be there and that his father would disapprove if he knew, he shouldn't be reminding himself of her, and he should stop go downstairs and make breakfast but he couldn't. It was the only time he could really mourn over her death, any other day wouldn't feel proper.

He had to make himself feel better so he took Ryder's advice and started counting, he counted the amount of dresses that were green and the amount of shirts that were purple. Counting didn't help, not really but it helped him feel in control and it helped him realize that his not dreaming.

Ten green dresses and one purple shirts.

It made sense, nearly everything in the closet was either green or black and white, some things were pink and the rest were red. She hated purple , it reminded her of violets and she hated violets . He never understood why she liked the color green, it was so boring but he understood why she hated violets. It was the same reason why he hated them. They reminded her of her dead mother. Grandma Jill, his mother's mom she adored violets every chance she got she bought them to decorate, to put on her dead husband's grave and to take to church. The only reason she had the shirt was because her husband bought it for her.