She walked in to find a note on the table under a pile of roses, as pink as the sunset sky, It will be ok she read to herself. But that’s it, No, it won’t.
Memories flooded her brain, mind couldn’t cope with the capacity of the torment, and her eyes drained the anguish as she sat alone, and cried.
She untangled her long, thick, eyelashes with cleanser and cotton pads, skin purified, free from the happy mask of bronzer, liner and lip gloss. She couldn’t bare to look at the undiluted reflection in the mirror any longer. The empty bed reflected all the loneliness she needed to see. What was the use in drowning into the two pools of lifeless light in her eyes.
She flicked the mains and blindly made her way to the socket on the other side of the room, lamplight now glowing into the darkness, wrapped inside her duvet.
Tossed, turned, tossed, turned. This is going well. She tried to find the cold spot. Immediately felt like an icicle. And again too hot, in the hot spot. Sigh.
Call register. She hoped for an answer. Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring.
Are you there?
Yeah, are you alright?
Kind of. You?
So-so. Listen, Ree, let me call you back.
Call clicked, hang-up tone.
I do not know why I bother and the repressed gush of emotion returned from earlier. Hunger grumbled but she couldn’t feel the pain, the prescription seemed to still anaesthetise her system. That’s handy. Thank you, Doctor.
Lamp light killed. And the mountain of white tissues mounted up in the blackness of crushed purple velvet tears.