Unfinished.

Bridged Yet Torn

Reluctantly I steered homeward bound, where my impatient mother, and the other person who I 'so wanted to meet', were waiting for me. No matter how hard I tried to forget my mind keeps a strong grip on the memories I once had with him. It keeps pirouetting about the same flashbacks I once had.
I carried on taking heavy step. I felt a coolness tickle my chin, I looked up and realised it was raining, I had momentary panic as I realised my hair was going to get poofy and my favourite shirt would be ruined. It was an aqua blue shirt, vibrant yet faded, torn at the seams, which somehow managed to look like an ornate design. I picked up my pace, I felt the light pitter patter of the raindrops against the walls of the pavements. The monotonous sound slowly lulled me into a peaceful state of mind. I continued my way home, slowly the rain seeping through the thin fabric of the shirt and soaking me, this is the point where I reconsidered my options on wearing the attire that I have on, London weather is bipolar, one minute it's boiling the next it's throwing down buckets of rain.
5 minutes later, and soaking wet, I arrived at my house.Fortunately, we always were financially stable, so could afford the better houses, in the more posher environments to reside in.
Our house was nice, it was a beautiful house on the outskirts of London, a cottage like house, cozy, warm and homey.
The scent of fresh cottage pie instantly invaded my nostrils.
"Hey mum, I'm home". Instead of my mum replying, and long haired drop dead gorgeous, almost a model like girl in her early 20s,  approached me and hugged me. I was taken aback as she was someone I didn't know.
Her hair was a luscious blond, with highlights, it had volume and curled, and cascaded down her back. Her face was an angular shape, acquainting her with an angelic cherubic hue. Her eyes were a glossed piercing, deep blue sea of emotions. She was breathtaking.
I turned a deep ting of red, as discovered I was gawking at her, she had a devious smile playing on her lips.
"Mum", I called out, at last I saw her face peering through the door, she showed her full self. My mother Eevon Cartier Williams, a woman in her mid 40s, a happy person, a beautiful soul. Her eyes were a mixture is colours, blue hazel and grey, of you look close enough you will see the difference in her eyes. They are truly mesmerising, I too inherited the look, however it made me feel conscious; however she seems to embrace it.  She sported a floral babydoll dress with an apron that said; 'I make the rules', her hair was in a tight bun above her head, she was wearing white heels, trust my mother to wear heels at home. However she looked in complete and utter happy state of mind, something life hasn't thrown in my face for a long time.

My mother approached me, taking short quick strides.
I gave her a discombobulated look, upon which she did not waste time in returning, and the. it soon dawned on me that the very same person who stood in all her glory, was my childhood best friend, my childhood saviour, Missy Brown.

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~A/N ~
That's the second paragraph of unfinished, I generally hope you guys love it, and hopefully I get some more reads on it.
In the meantime please give me a shout.
Love -
Abz
P.S jorja Smith gives me life, don't judge, but yh I take a lot of my inspiration from her words.
💋💋