Knowing What's Next

Prolouge

It had been a while since she felt alright. Maybe even long enough to forget it completely. Long enough that the sense of contentment and comfort was foreign to her.
It was so foreign she didn't recognize it until it was gone.

If she thought about it hard enough, she could remember the feeling of the small callouses on his hands, the radiating warmth that they always seemed to have. She could relive, even for just a moment, the warming feeling that made her bite her lower lip and curl her toes inside her shoes.

But then, like a slap to the face, the cold grasp of solitude reminded her exactly where she was. And exactly where he was.

She couldn't help but think of him. Often. Most of the time. Practically every spare moment that she had. It was as if a child had taken a stick of Elmer's and smeared it all around the inside of her memory so that she could never forget.

And there were some days that she wanted to forget. Some days she wanted to scream and hide and tear her mind into pieces so tiny she could never piece together a memory of him ever again. These days happened the most.

Yet, there were also days that she cherished what they had. Some days, she looked in the rear view mirror of memories and remembered their time together with a smile. These days were brilliant in their rarity.

And late at night, Elle Sherman would wonder if he ever wondered about her.