nightingale

The first time he saw her cry.

She could remember it as if it was fresh paint on an old wall. But with every wet paint you lean on, it leaves a stain on your clothes and skin.

It was late in a December night and he found her in a darker part of the street, crying a year's worth of tears, her hands over her face and her hair providing coverage. Why she was weeping, he didn't know. Did he do something wrong? He tried to ask her but as to no avail, his only response were more sobs and sniffles.

Her breaths were becoming more jagged and deeper while her eyes were starting to sting. The tears staining against her cheek started to feel cold because of the breeze hitting her face.

She could still feel it all, the sudden warmth washing over her when he held her hand, the way he wrapped his arms around her, his voice whispering promises of love and words of comfort, and it was better than any angel's voice. It was like a song she wanted to play over and over, a song she would love to hear every night. The kiss he left on her cheek was warm and soft, gentle and caring as if going any further would only break her more.

When she was able to stop crying a bit, she looked up at him, and he gave her a little smile that seemed so bright, more beautiful than a star, even. He left a kiss on her forehead, saying that those thoughts won't ever come back for the night. He kept her in his arms, and she felt warm and okay.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours. When he took her home, they still slept in the comfort of each others arms, him listening to the sounds of her breathing and her falling asleep to his heartbeat and his subtle voice whispering I love you.

She remembers it all, and all a sudden a sudden desperation to forget everything swept her over. Amnesia, car accident, anything just to make her forget all seemed like a better choice for her.

While she was still crying breaking down by the doorway after he left, there were no arms to keep her warm, no voice to calm her down, no one beside her anymore. The person she loves was no longer sitting beside her on an empty street.