Separated *short story*
-Girl-
As I watch his car pull away, a cry escapes my lips. "Don't leave," I say. My best friend pats me on the back. We walk back to my house, to find that everything reminds me of him. Him. He left me. I cry again. He just HAD to move to the other side of the flipping country. My best friend has to leave. She says goodbye, and walks home.
Later, I start looking through my scrapbook from this past school year. Picture after picture, person after person, smile after smile. A single tear drips down my cheek, and stains a picture with him on it. Him. Just yesterday, the last day of seventh grade, I was talking to him in class, laughing with him, smiling with him. I close the book quickly, not letting myself get another glimpse.
The next day, I get up and don't want to do anything. I want to cry in bed all day. It is the first day of summer. But I want to stay in my room with the lights off. The weather mocks my feelings, the clear blue skies and warm sun, the wind brushing through the trees gently. The birds sing, children play. I want it to rain.
I get up and go to the kitchen table to get breakfast. I take out my phone, and text him, wanting him to answer my urgent need to see him. He doesn't. I text my best friend, seeing what she thinks. "He's not responding because he knows he will not get over you if he does. He wants to be able to move on." I just hope he texts me soon enough. I need him.
-Boy-
I drive away from the girl I love, the town I know, and I try to stifle a sob. I have to be strong, I think. I can't let this get to me. I look out the window, and sigh as my hometown fades away into the distance, everything I once knew becoming a thing of the past. I text my best friend, hoping to get a final glimpse of my old life. He responds quickly, indicating that he knows how sad I am, and wants me to cheer up. After a while, I stop texting him.
We go to McDonald's for dinner. We walk in, and I look at the menu on the wall. I remembered that she always got the strawberry smoothie and a quarter pounder. She got that. She did. A single tear slips down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away. I have to be strong. If I'm not, I will fall apart.
The next morning, I don't know where I am at first. Why is my bed rumbling? Oh yeah, I'm not in my bed. I'm in the car, going thousands of miles away from my home. The weather is perfect, taunting me. I remember when her and I used to run in the fields by school on these type of clear, perfect days. The birds are singing, the sky the bluest blue, the warm sun shining on our faces. We used to walk the track together in gym, and talk on these clear days.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. It's her. It says "Hi." I want to respond so bad, so, so bad, but I know I can't. If I do, I will never have a day where I don't cry myself to sleep, remembering the days when I was back there. I force my phone in my pocket. I hope she doesn't get mad at me or sad. I can't respond, I want to tell her, because I need you.
