Prompted Shorties

Things We Lose

Prompt: In honor of Harry Potter's birthday (and J.K. Rowling's), this week's writing prompt is simply a line from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Do as you please with it—incorporate it into your story, use it as inspiration, turn it on its head, make it into an anagram—anything you'd like.

"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."

Story:

Following the previous prompt, here's what I got.

"Just tell me." Mark walked out from the kitchen then sat down on the grey coffee stained couch on the left as he waited patiently for my response. I was very hesitant to tell him, or even tell someone else for that matter, but, I had to tell somebody. So I called him earlier, and told him that I had something to tell him. Mark's a good friend, he never hesitates to help someone who needs him.

I looked at the cracks on the ceiling trailing through this room to the kitchen, then at the light bulb illuminating the whole room. The antiqueness of the house reminds me of home, it helped me open up to Mark.

"Sit down Raf, you can trust me" I looked at his steely gaze, it's like piercing through my eyes. I'm like a gazelle caught in headlights, but at the same time, it felt like I could trust him. I followed his command and sat next to him, hands on my lap, head bowed down and my eyes closed shut. I was more nervous now than when I was told that I had to deliver an impromptu speech about horses being used in race tracks.

"I have a crush on this guy that I used to see when I commute to work and when I go home" I blurted out, he looked at me for a moment, then he understood.

"And?" that sounded so blatant, so plain, like he doesn't care.

"I keep dreaming about him now."

"But?" He's making it difficult for me.

"But I love him too much and I don't know what to do." I said laying back, accepting defeat and covering my eyes as I started to weep.

Silence.

A few moments later, I heard him take a deep breath.

"You know, a famous writer once wrote, 'things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect'. So don't lose hope" Mark replied, his voice filled with every bit of enthusiasm that he can conjure.

He places a friendly hand on my thigh, and then gently caresses it. I looked at him. He gave me a weak but genuine smile. A smile that says "it'll be okay".

I didn't want to bother Mark anymore. I just nodded in response to end the conversation. It wasn't the kind of help I wanted, but maybe it was the kind that I actually needed.

But, how could I lose someone if they weren't even mine in the first place? Would they still come back nevertheless?