Color in Your Cheeks [Song-Based Writings]

Woke Up New

Song: Woke Up New by The mountain Goats

On the morning when I woke up without you for the first time....

The room was cold, a biting draft blowing in from the window that had been left cracked overnight. The chill filled the air, clinging to the walls and filling each corner with the beginning of fall. The heavy blankets weren't enough to protect him from the chill or stop the rising of goosebumps as they spread across his arms. He shivered, pulling the blankets tightly around himself and trying to lean into the body of heat that he was used to having beside him. When he was met with nothing more than the same empty coldness, his eyes fluttered open with a confused furrow in his brow. He blinked slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the visual proof of his bed's emptiness.

He sighed deeply and rolled over, turning his back on the vacant half of what used to be theirs. He stared blankly at the wall, his mind fuzzy with a sort of blank nothingness that was somehow consuming. He was distantly aware of the thought that he couldn't remain in bed all day, but the cold waiting for him just outside of his blankets' safety made him unwilling to move.

"It's cold." He said aloud, to no one at all. The apartment was completely absent of all living creatures, save for him. Even the vase of flowers he kept on the dining room table had long since withered and died away. There was no one to listen to his empty words, but he spoke them anyway. He pushed the blankets away and forced himself to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself in a weak attempt to block out the cold. His head turned towards the direction of the window and he stumbled towards it. "The windows open." He murmured under his breath, closing and locking it.

He made his way into the kitchen, bare feet freezing against the tile floor. "Why is it so cold?" He asked to himself, beginning to prepare the coffee for himself. He watched the machine as he waited for it to finish, simply staring blankly until it beeped. He poured himself a mug and quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, there's too much." He noted, sipping at his full mug. "I don't drink this much." He added a dash of creamer, watching the milky white liquid swirl around before disappearing into the brown.

He sighed heavily and drained his mug before pouring another. He drank every drop of the surplus he had brewed, to the point where he began to feel almost nauseous. She hated when he let things go to waste. He threw the mug into the sink and stood dimly in the kitchen for another moment. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the greasy strands fall through his fingertips. He turned and walked out, padding towards the bathroom to relieve himself. He stared at the shower, aware of how desperately in need of bathing he was. He shook his head and returned to the hallway. "Not now. Later." He mumbled, wandering around the apartment with an empty look in his eyes. He wasn't entirely sure where he was headed.

He meandered back into the bedroom and found himself staring at the pictures hanging on the walls. He'd never really taken the time to just look at them. He hadn't been the one to buy them, so he didn't feel like he should care. They were all such bizarre paintings, a woman with a moth for a head, the devil playing an instrument of some sort, blends of dark reds and blacks splattered across canvas. He sat on the bed and stared, the nothingness in his head spreading to his limbs.

Oh, what do I do without you?

He found himself in the living room at some point, having turned up the heat and put on a sweater. She'd bought him this sweater. It had been a Christmas gift. She had known how much he'd always hated ugly Christmas sweaters, so of course she had gotten him one. It was hideous, but it was warm. He had glared at her when he'd opened it, but she had just laughed. She had laughed and laughed until he'd found himself laughing too. They had laughed together for so long that time seemed to slip away, aided by their love and the wine. It had been happy. They had been happy.

That happiness was gone now. He suddenly found it hard to breathe, recognizing that he was sitting alone on their couch, surrounded by their walls, wrapped in their blanket, watching their tv. Everything that was theirs was now just his.

The truth was suffocating. He removed himself from the couch and practically fled to the front door, pulling it open, and dashing down the stairs and towards the street. He took several breaths and closed his eyes, feeling the cold wind surround him. It blew through the trees and the leaves and his hair. He could feel it in his lungs and in every fiber of his being. When his eyes opened, he watched the sun as it made its way fully into the sky. He took slow and gentle breaths as he stood on the sidewalk. He put his hands in his pockets and waited for the summer to come.

Oh, what do I do?

What do I do?

What do I do,

Without you?