He Saved Me

I sat in the cafe and took a sip of the coffee. It burned on it's way down, but at least it got ride of the metal and wax taste that was building up in the back of my throat.

I closed my eyes and clutched the cup, nearly cracking it in the process. London. Why London? Why couldn't they have send me somewhere closer to home, closer to where he lay? Somewhere where all the memories were, somewhere where his ghost and soul and spirit still lived? I never used to beileven all that crap, you know. Souls and ghosts and shit. But once he died, once I killed him, I couldn't not, because I think that those first few weeks afterwards it was the only thing that kept me sane. If you could even call me that.

I shook in my seat and felt a few people turning to look at me. Mind your own buisness, will you? I closed my eyes tighter until the point where it almost hurt and tried to stop the flashbacks.

Open your eyes, Karly. Open your eyes.

They flew, light invading them and focused just in time to see a boy walking up to my table, a buzz cut and warm brown clear eyes, and a half-smirk kissing his lips.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

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