Tonight.

Hypothermia

Hypothermia

11:45. She was late…But she never was late. Where is she? He exhaled deeply into the winter air and watched his breath dissipate. He compared his relationship with her to his breath in the crisp cold air. It was visible, but not tangible and in a moment’s notice it was gone. This wasn’t what it was like before. He was waiting in the park downtown for her, in the middle of the frigid November night, only to what? Wait in a freezing cold park? Get hypothermia? Another deep breathe in, then out, and another brief appearance of his breathe.

            Was she really going to stand him up? Well it made sense. She was becoming distant, like she didn’t really care anymore. An infinite amount of scenarios started pop up in his mind like popcorn in the microwave. The kernels that were popping, in his case, was the paranoia that she was too good for him. She was really pretty and all of his friends agreed that she was definitely out of his league. How did he even get her to be his girlfriend? He took a seat on a nearby bench to try and dispel the demons in his head.

            He checked the clock on his phone. 11:50. He watched his breath faded away into the cold air again. Their relationship really was like his breath. It was a constant pattern of there, then not there, and then again before it disappeared into the night. Great he thought to himself She’s ten minutes late and I’m trying to sound like a poet. He chuckled to himself, take away his relationship with her, well really take away his relationship with everyone and he still had one thing left. His sarcasm. He laughed as he thought about this, but was that good enough for him? Crappy jokes that were aimed at himself to try and mask his pain?

            A homeless man drunkenly stumbled by as he was sitting on the bench. He was bundled up in tattered jackets and was gripping hard onto a bottle of booze while mumbling to himself a song. The hobo seemed to dance around with his bottle in his hand as if the bottle was a dancing partner…Or a lover. The teen on the bench shifted around. He stopped thinking about the random what’s-his-face from the football team that she could be cheating on him with. He was probably over thinking anyways. He instead looked at the homeless man dancing with his drink. Maybe he was the homeless man and she was the booze because when he was with her he became drunk off of her love. When he was with her he thought that he could actually fly if he climbed on top of a car and jumped up with all his might. But everyone sober knows you can’t actually fly, so he’d jump up, fall down and get back up again. He felt fine because he was intoxicated by her presence when she was with him. And the next morning when the effects wore off and she wasn’t in bed next to him, he felt the fall from the night before. His head ached and his body felt like a dozen elephants just trampled him. Then he would swear that he’d stop doing this, but later that night they’d meet up and run around the town. And he’d get drunk off of her again. The cycle would continue.

            He didn’t want to check his watch anymore. She was late and it didn’t really matter. There wasn’t a text or a phone call telling him that she was going to be late, and it had to be at least ten minutes since the predetermined time for their rendezvous. It was good while it lasted. He got up and took a single step away from then bench then stopped. Well, I could wait for a bit longer. He turned around and thought about it. He could wait in the cold for a bit longer and raise the chance of him getting sick only to wake up tomorrow morning with another hangover like feeling without her by his side or he could wake up from this semi-pleasant reverie and just face it. She doesn’t like you the way you like her. You’re her court jester, and she’s the princess you wish you had a chance with. But life isn’t a fairytale and you’re no prince. Now go home, get some sleep and wake up.

            He begrudgingly checked his phone one more time. 12:05. It was late. He no longer wanted to get the drunken feeling. He just wanted to go home and wrap himself in his sheets and hibernate. Maybe he’ll wake up when spring came around and it wasn’t as cold as this. No. No…Not spring. He thought. Love is in the air when it’s spring. Ugh, love. It’s all very stupid anyways. Teenage love. He turned back around and started to walk away. His heart was breaking but maybe his walk through the cold November night would freeze his heart over so he wouldn’t really care anymore. It was about time he sobered up.

She walked into the park and checked her phone. Shit. She thought to herself. She just noticed that she was late, but he’s the type of person that would wait a bit for her…right? She sat down on a bench in the park. Maybe he gave up on her. Maybe he found someone better. She sighed and watched her breath appear and disappear into the night. Kind of like us isn’t it? Here one moment, then gone the next. He was her drug and she needed another fix…Or maybe she didn’t. And maybe, just maybe, she needed to sober up.