The Space Between Us

Chapter 22

The mind is a tricky thing.

******
I'm sitting in the coffee shop, staring at my notebook while sipping on my coffee.

Just the day before yesterday, i've had a companion. I've had a friend.

But now, i've no one but my notebook and coffee.

And we're back at square one.

But no, i refuse to believe this, because this isn't true.

I didn't get out of this experience empty handed.

In fact, i'm no longer the person i was.

But every once in a while, while i'm writing, i get glimpses of her.

I feel her presence beside me.

I get flashes of our times together.

That's why i'm writing. To have something to hold on to, when times get really tough.

I'm planning to complete this book. Because i promised her. And i promised myself.

I close my eyes and i remember the first time i saw her.

The way her eyes met mine when she asked to sit with me. And when she asked to read my poems.

The first time we had a walk together. We were arguing and talking about silly things.

When i walked her home and gave her my jacket, and when she gave it back, it smelled like her. I didn't wash for days after that.

When i told her about my mom, and how she never pitied me, not even once.

And when she told me about her father, how she trusted me enough to do so.

The way she loved dancing everywhere. In that parking lot, in the car, everywhere.

And when she started working as a waiter and god, how she used to complain about that. A lot.

I open my eyes and smile to myself, i begin writing again.

Oh dear god, Sydney. You don't even know how much poems i've wrote about you.

I thought i wrote a lot about my mother, but i've wrote twice of that about Sydney.

And she wasn't even real.

*****
Why do we fall?