Fight or Flight

Hello, right now I don't have much to say so...ENJOY

six weeks, 5 days and 17 hours ago my heart relinquished its last beat. That's how long ago my soul mate walked out on me. Walls crashing down, is one of the many ways to describe the anguish growing inside me every waking moment. The last few months had been different, the tender kisses on my cheeks faded into scares inscribed in my memories. 'I love yous' before bed became a seldom act, only foreseeable on birthdays, holidays, and of course pre-breakup's eve.

Neal and I met 6 years ago as fresh faced college freshman, naive to the fact that the way we felt then wasn't the way we would feel forever. Back in the days of our Ryan Gosling worthy romance, we were inseparable . Clinging on to each other every second, cliches filled 99% of our lives.

But then colledge was over and the backdrop of real life set in.... jobs, marriage, kids. Maybe thats what made him shrink away from our relationship, intentionally consuming his last efforts into work. We never made any real commitment, I see no ring on my finger yet I felt as if we had and still have an obligation to stay together, far beyond a marriage slip. But I guess he didn't feel that way, I think I'm getting over him.

I recently noticed that the tarnished smell of his shampoo (that I cherished for the first three days after he left) has seemed to vanish off the right side of our, excuse me, MY bed. A few of his shirts still remain crumpled at the end of the laundry basket, Neal always did the laundry and I just can't rangle up the courage to clear out everything of his. I wonder if he still feels this way, I can hope he does after spending the last 6 years of my life with him! I can at least be thankful I am blessed with the encouraging fact that I found out we were not meant to be while I am still young. Imagine being 49 and single, I realise this is the reality of millions of womens lives I just hope never mine. 26, young enough to still have fun.... old enough men have matured a little bit. At Least in theory.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Looking out from a clouded window into a dreary day does not always put one in an optimistic mood. The smell of smog and sweat fills my lungs and I exhale lasily. I sit my face pressed up against the hot glass, feeling multiple kicks to my new shoes as people flood in from the bus stop.

A mix of people are pooled into the crowded bus, all of us packed like sardines together. Looking out into the diverse faces, and creating lives for them always becomes a bit of a pass time for me. A middle aged dirty man with a long blond scruffy beard, ripped clothes and guitar: ran away from home at the age of 17 to start a multi nation record label. Young, tall put together Asian woman: a self created billionaire who is very environmentally conscious and a top investor.

Retreating my vision from the people on the bus to the dismal day ahead of me I sigh. for long lengths of time I resort to clicking my heels impatiently waiting for the long bus ride to be over, my firm is at the end of the line so all I have is time to kill. Passing time I inspect my skirt and blouse, straightening them out in attempts to diminish wrinkles, though I only make it worst. With another sigh I give up my meticulous reign over clothing, and go back to staring out the window.

I shift my eyes along the quickly moving pavement below me, if I were to use one word to describe today it would be grey. Grey street, grey buildings, grey sky and grey clouds. Grey looking sad faces and grey sidewalks. Grey.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder, I look up. A man about my age stands above me, his hair the color of pale dead grass and his eyes the color of ice.

"Is this seat taken?" He asks I can smell a refreshing hint of mint in his breath as he speaks.

"Nope. Go right ahead" I scoot a little more to the right to give him room, placing my hand bag on the other side of me. He sits down, even from my sideways glance of him I can see his muscular chest through his shirt. I turn my head to look at his face, he has a small scar on his cheek. A wisp of purposely messy hair falls in front of his face. His icey cold eyes are somewhat, unsettling. Not dead just, cold as if there was something deeper behind the shut doors of the blue.

"Sooo, where you heading? A powerful well put-together woman like you I'm assuming..." I cut him off mid-sentence, replacing his with my own.

"My law firm, and I'm not that powerful. At Least not yet."

"Oh, I got myself a smart and beautiful girl do I? Guess I hit the jack-pot today! So what kind of law you into?"

"Mostly low stakes injury suits, boring stuff like that. Nothing big yet but this is only my first year so...I guess I'm pretty far along for my time frame." a slight grin is plastered on his face. "So what do you do? A flirt like your self, I'm guessing....stripper?" he laughs a bit.

"Close but, sadly for you no. Freelance journalist." it's been too long since I have flirted with a man, the last time I did I was on campus talking to an adorably innocent Neal Green. Even if he leads to nothing, atleast I will have proven to myself I'm not hopeless. Neal was my first love, but hopefully he won't be my last.

"Damn. I guess freelance is still sexy but you have just lost a lot of points."

I smile at him waiting for a reply. There is something strangely eerie about him, he is charming and very good looking. But there is something more than that, it's almost dark. Though this is probably just a love depressed me, wishing I could be in Neal's arms. I repress all my thoughts, and continue to talk.

"So, does a pretty girl like you have a name or should I just keep calling you 'beautiful?'"

I snort unattractively at his remark. But after a long relationship, you need a shallow re-bound guy.

"Kim, but you can still call me beautiful..." my soon to be snarky comeback is interrupted.

"Beautiful it is! You can call me whatever you want... as long as you let me, call you? You see what I did there?"

"Haha, not just yet! I'm gonna need a name. How else will I know what to put into my contacts?" this last sentence I make innocently high pitched. Not that I actually intend on putting him on my contacts.

"Ray Davis. Now how bout those digits of yours?" I pull out a small slip of paper and write my number down on I slowly. Deep inside I confess I am trying to make it messy so he can't read it. Though I am not wholeheartedly sure if this is because of the distress signals going off inside of me or my longing for Neal.

"Thanks, beautiful." He strokes my hair, I tense up. My whole body flinches. As he walks up from the seat relief swarms my body. Soon followed by dread.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Crap, I think to myself! I totally gave that perv my number! Damn it Neal even when you are not around you cloud my judgment.

First Chapter done yes!!! idk how I like the cover to vote/ commetnt and tell me what u like and what u hate!! BYYEE XOXO