Pink Lime

Dear Eve,

I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live, and I'm sorry that I can't love you in all my lives as different forms on different universes, in different times. I regret that I couldn't even know if our souls have ever crossed-paths before, so I couldn't know if I've ever loved you in my last lives, but I'm glad that I love you in this one.

--

I remember one, and only one special December 24th, when the streets outside my windows were bright with all sorts of fairy lights but only on that day, that I realized how much they really looked like fairies. That Christmas was the best Christmas that I can remember, and it all started at nine o'clock in the morning, when I received a call from my mother asking me to come over for breakfast, since it was Christmas Eve.

I normally don't like traveling, not even to go outside and dump the trash, but I hadn't seen my mother for a long time, and it'd be nice to hear her talk on and on about her back garden again. So I took with me a red notebook, considering how much she liked to talk, and headed out.

The bus that I caught was rather empty, even though it was Christmas Eve and people should be busy meeting their relatives, at least that's what I think people usually do, but I haven't seen mine since New Years. Still, I went to the back and sat alone, where no one could bother me.

It had been a long time since I've gone out for anything other than to walk to work, so sitting on that bus was strange and scary for me. Everything seemed to want to cling closer to me, strangers all around were just looking, looking straight through me and their footsteps were too loud... I slipped on my earphones.

It was as if I was on an alien planet, and even if they were aliens, to them I was the alien. But everything was the same, I was breathing the same air, hearing the same traffic, the same voices of different people, watching the same hands of clocks. Yet nothing felt comfortable, and if I could dig into my skin and find a zipper somewhere, I would unzip myself and turn into something they were. Only to feel normal like them...

I was in a trance, looking out the window and not seeing the girl that reflected from it. She sat down next to me and I had only notice her five minutes after, when she tapped on my shoulder.

I clenched the red notebook that was rolled in my now sweaty palms, and smiled weakly at her.

I was terrified.

She took it in herself that it was okay to remove my earphone, her warm fingers lightly touching my earlobe as she did so.

"Hi," she grinned, the corners of her lips went up to her green, excited eyes. I nodded back and waited for what she had to say. She had short, brown hair that only someone as beautiful as her could pull off, and a pair of heart-shaped lips that produced mellow mint when she spoke, "Is that Alt-J?" I didn't think my music was playing that loud.

I opened the notebook with the curled in pages, and produced a pen from my shirt pocket. I wrote, yes.

She read the letters on the tinted pink page and looked up at me, her eyes adrift and the jubilant smile faded. But she didn't speak her mind, instead she took the unoccupied earphone and held it up, "May I?"

I pointed at the word on the blank page.

The bus halted streets after streets, and none of which the girl left my side. She had fallen asleep on my shoulder by the time it came to my stop. I didn't know what to do with her, but I didn't want to wake her up either because her warmth was starting to grow on me and her lips grew into a small smile in her sleep at one point.

But I didn't want my mother to wait for long so I brushed her brunette hair gently. "Are we there already?" she yawned. I nodded.

The girl slowly lifted her head from my shoulder, and immediately I was washed with the cool winter wind without her.