"'For life' remember?" he kissed my forehead
gently and rested his chin upon my head.
"For life" I agreed, sighing a breath of relief.
✴✴✴
A girl who treasured goodness in everything she encounters. A symbol of benevolence. S...
Even it was for a couple of hours, my heart started aching the second I walked back in to his empty house. I couldn't believe I was living alone almost for a year now. It felt like he and I were together as far as I could recall. I dragged myself up to my room lazily, already missing him a little too much. I stopped at the door to his room. It wasn't closed. I inhaled a big gust of air which lingered with my favorite scent. The scent I nuzzled myself to sleep for the past few weeks. I stepped in to the most organized room of a boy I have ever seen myself.
The bed was neatly made. Thick books were stacked accordingly to the sides of the table. To do list stuck on the table lamp was checked on time. Was he always been studious? I thought. A huge roll of paper was tucked next to the pile of books. I took it out carefully without disturbing the pile. The letters 'Ms' was written on the bottom of the roll. Out of curiosity I spread it on the table.
Those were huge drawings. As I looked in to the first intently, I was stunned. It was just like the one I received few weeks ago, a lot bigger, much detailed one though. There were three of them. Each contained a nicely sketched pencil drawing along with a caption under it.
Each frame was familiar as I knew they were my usual getaways. In the first one I was in the corner table of the cafeteria with others. I had the poker face on as usual. But even I could see the loneliness in my posture, though the others were having a good time. There was no way he could have missed it. It was clearly visible. But how did he picture me like that. Was he been there? On the edge of the paper there was this verse in his beautiful handwriting.
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My eyes welled up with moisture as I read the last line. Before they get all wet, I flipped it over to the next paper.
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It was written under a sketch of an aisle in the library. He hadn't missed me in between the shelves of my usual section sitting on the floor reading. Even my headphones were hanging around my neck.
I turned over to the last one eagerly to see what might be on it. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. On the paper a girl was lying helplessly on what seemed like a hospital bed. I figured easily who that girl was and I knew which day he tried to bring back as I read the caption. His words were like painful blisters in my throat. The line read below,
