The cold burned her heart

Missing

''I miss you, Pelle,'' she told me on a Sunday morning when I was rushing to the office. Let's go to the SkyWheel today.''

''I can't, maybe after you finish your exams,'' was what I kept promising for months. 

''You haven't spent time with me since my freaking birthday, Pelle!  That's three months!''

''What do you mean, love? We spend time...''

''All we do is fuck once a week, you ignorant brat!" she yelled. 

She was so angry my guts filled with hatred for myself. I knelt before her and kissed her belly. 

''I swear, after you graduate, we'll spend the whole day together, every day.''

Looking through the notes from that time, I found the details I was looking for. Things I never even bated an eye that would matter.

In march, Amara cut her hair shorter. I bragged about how much I loved her long hair for years, and now she cut it. But of course, I thought it was just a need of change. 

Then, it was the drastic change of clothing. 

Amara used to love dresmessses. Silky, white, red and blue dresses. In that period she started wearing leather, and belts, and she pierced her ears. I remembered New Eve, when she had those leather pants, and I thought she looked ridiculous. But now, covered in metal and dressed in all black, she looked like a depressed teenager. But it was her body and her problem, and I would love her even if she'd dress in rags.

Then, one evening, I saw my Amara as I never saw her. With her eyes countoured with the deepest shade of pure black, covered in belts and spikes and in black leather from head to toe. 

''Where the hell are you going?''

''To a movie with my friends,'' she answered as if she didn't see the shock on my face. Ii didn't want to ask about her clothes, because it was her problem. So I let  her go, with a kiss on her forehead, and I stayed home to calculate profits and send emails to my emploees.

When Amara came home, such a melancholy had hit me, and I was so happy seeing her, that I covered her in hugs and kisses instantly and sat her at the table. 

The joy I my heart was too blinding to see behind her appearance, but now that I read those descriptions, I know.

''She had her hair messy and wild from all the wind that march had blessed Helsinki with, and some of the spikes on her jacket were missing. As I wanted to pick something from under the table, I saw her pants ripped in the knees and her skin bloody and red.

I rushed her to the bathroom to get the wounds clean. She explained she had fallen on ice and caused a few bruises.''

The bruises.

I remember vividly seeing bruises under her breasts when we were in the bathtub together.