It had been about three hours since Michael left me alone.
So it was now two-almost three- AM.
And I found myself alone in his apartment, curled up in his bed and wrapped up in his sweatshirt. Missing him.
Which was completely stupid, because he left me. I should be mad instead.
So why wasn't I?
I wasn't sad or anything. Not mad. I just missed him. Or I thought I did. Really, I just sat there, clouding my head with the thoughts and feelings of missing him to ignore the giant weight that was bearing on my shoulders I didn't want to face just quite yet. Unable to find any stability to help me relax and fall asleep like I had been struggling to do, I finally rolled out of bed and made my way into the living room in hopes of finding something to do to distract me.
There was Michael's guitar. He'd let me play countless times before so I hardly thought it would matter to him if I did now.
I reached out for the guitar, but before my hand could even wrap around the fretboard, I stopped. I dropped my arm to my side and took a step back. I didn't want to play anymore.
Michael's apartment was a little higher than mine so the view was a little different. I had never really took a lot of time to notice it. All my time here was spent with Michael and when I was with him, things like how nice the view from his apartment wasn't important to me. Now it was all I noticed.
I stepped up to the glass window, pressing my fingertips to it and seeing the frosty white that spread across the pane in response to my warmth. Many of the buildings owned by companies had lights bordering the rooftop or maybe even the sides of the building. The city seemed like a different place in the winter time. Sure, it was definitely busier, especially starting the week before Christmas, when school was out for everyone for sure. But there was an air about it, that said despite all the stupid shit that could have happened to you over the year, it was time to let go. There was a new year to come.
It was like the whole city was exhaling. Even I was. Everything that happened, I thought I could get over. I was just too tired to care anymore. So when it came to this rift with Michael, I blankly tried to pull through it without absorbing any blows. So instead, I just saw the city lights.
I could paint this, I though, letting a determined feeling overwhelm me to replace the true empty feeling I felt inside. I'll get it right this time.
I hurried back to my apartment, unlocking the door in a haste before shooting into the room with my art supplies. I grabbed my box of paints and my container of pencils and brushes. Balancing them all on a two and half by four foor canvas, I slipped out of the apartment and into the hallway. Carefully, I traveled up the stairs, careful not to be too loud or drop anything, and reentered Michael's apartment. But before the door clicked shut behind me, I came to an abrupt halt, realizing I'd forgotten one thing.
I set my supplies down on the granite counter and turned on my heel, heading back for my easel. Automatically, I walked into the same room I was just in, where I kept my old paintings and supplies and searched for the easel. After searching even the furthest corners of the room, in the closet, behind the old paintings, and even behind the door, I still didn't find the easel.
I backpedaled out of the room, hoping I could wing this without an easel and started to make my trip back to the apartment on the floor above. When I walked out into the living room, my legs turned to led and I came to a halt, right in the middle of the room where the moonlight streamed in through the window, over me like a silvery blanket. I looked up at the moon as I forced myself to keep walking, not even noticing where I was headed.
