These Paper Pages

Talk [Serlo]

It was always the little things, he reflects, that makes it impossible to truly forget about her. It could be the scent of perfume or just the sight of a simple object, then his vision clouds and all he sees is magenta. She finds a way to worm her way back into his everyday life; she is a fragment, a memory- that he couldn't quite detach from his reality. He found it simply annoying, they were over, they were both done; their relationship did nothing but hurt them in the end. A sigh escapes his lips, stealing one last glance of the apartment, a wave of nostalgia and wistfulness washes over him like the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs, splashing water into the frigid winds that dissipates it eventually. It held so many memories of them, both joyous and hurtful, yet precious all the same. The once homely, ornamented apartment filled with precious photographs and pretty decorations was stripped bare, leaving only furniture devoid of personality and colour that was once present. Despite that, he finds himself seeing her there, he could never fully erase her touch from this space.

Arlo looks away, redirecting his attention to the task at hand - packing away the remaining objects laid out on the table. Methodically, he tucks away the items inside, arranging them strategically so everything had its space. He was down to one item, making a grab for it, Arlo pauses and his hand hovers hesitantly on the face down picture frame. Picking it up and turning it to face him, he stares at the photograph in his hand, a picture frame containing a photograph of him and Seraphina. He recalls the memory perfectly; it was on the last day of summer during college and they, along with Remi, Isen, and Blyke, had decided to hit the beach. Isen had taken the photo after he had successfully coerced them into that pose with his lips pressing against her forehead, arms firmly wrapped around Seraphina's waist while her arms were loosely wrapped around his neck and a content smile resting on her lips; they looked so peaceful then. The sun was setting behind them, red-orange hues merges with the once blue skies and the clear seas, bathing them in warm colours as the sea water laps at their feet.

Arlo tucks the frame away in the box before finally closing the flaps and sealing them shut with the last of the packaging tapes he had. The memories held within these four walls, Arlo steals another glance, he would carry them for as long as his mind would allow him to. He knew that in time, all that had transpired between them from tender kisses and endearing words to pointing fingers and rising voices, would all be pushed back in the back of his mind; maybe not truly forgotten, but simply stored away in the recesses of his memories and only brought forward when he allows himself to. He closes his eyes and exhales, his shoulder slacks and his posture loosens, for now he would free himself from these melancholic memories.

It was time to go.

One day, maybe their paths will cross again and they'll look back and reflect on those memories of sunsets and sweet kisses, of wishful thinking, and learning that love, despite being passionate, could never last without understanding and the willingness to swallow one's pride to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. They loved and wanted each other, but desires can only last so long without the willingness to do what it takes to hold on and make it into reality.