Kisses To My Enemy
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- Partes 2
Continúa5m
Última publicación mié, jun 15, 2016
Though I found it crazy and all cheesy, I felt it was worth the try. When I first saw my enemy before my eyes, I thought it would be great revenge to have my pay back on the guy. The guy who used to bully me when I was in forth grade the one and only Sebastian Goldspin.
Growing up I had a hatred for mean and arrogant people. "I know,I know"
It was one of the most beautiful day ever, when I was all cheery and happy about my day ahead...
Walking around the bend of an Pastry store I found my self bump into unimaginative muscular man, hold my head a bit up I peer through my eyes open muttering, "I'm sorry" underneath my breathe...
Now my eyes fully open. I stood staring at the person before me like for an eternity....
Speechless, drooling at the Same time at what appears to be the most drop dead gorgeous guy, I've ever seen in ages.
For what it's worth I thought, I need to get acquainted with this admirable guys...
Without any other thought in mind, I blurted out, "Coffee"
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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