Dec 2013
Waking up in the most vulnerable state, she peeked her eyes to the left. His lids were still closed over his royal blue eyes. She quietly slid out of the turquoise covers and put on each of article of clothing, as if there was a fire drill. The adrenaline to leave the house, could not break the splitting headache erupting inside her. She crept down the all too familiar stairs and quietly creaked open the French door.
She ran to the dock and pulled out the half empty pack of her American Spirits. She decided to take out the lucky. As she watched the sunrise, she looked down at the water, and immediately started kicking the ripples, avoiding all confrontation. Harshly breathing in each puff and letting it go, only after her lungs felt like they were going to collapse. She took out a nip from her purse, ***** of course, and cheered to the new day.
Feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, she pried her leather jacket off and pulled her black dress over her bed head hair. The girl slowly slid into the water. She floated on her back, envisioning all the places she would rather be. All the other oceans, bed sheet covers, and foreign cigarettes.
Becoming conscious that the big hand on a clock had probably gone around multiple times, she slowly crawled out of the water, and rolled onto the dock. She sat for just one more minute, looking out at the sea. She whispered, “What a pretty blue” and sighed. Then she pulled the dress on, and walked to the house, as it began to rain. Arriving at that perfect-looking house, she became fixated on a tiny bit of mold that started to grow on the picket fence. Then she went inside and left her jacket at the door because she was never one to wear her emotions on her sleeve.
She crept back up the familiar stairs, and back into the turquoise covers. His eyes still sealed with slumber, appearing as if maybe he was in a never ending dream. She sat wishing sleep would embrace her, like it had for her husband. Instead she looked at the ceiling, and mouthed the word “home” as a tear slid from her eye and dripped onto her ocean- filled hair.
She ran to the dock and pulled out the half empty pack of her American Spirits. She decided to take out the lucky. As she watched the sunrise, she looked down at the water, and immediately started kicking the ripples, avoiding all confrontation. Harshly breathing in each puff and letting it go, only after her lungs felt like they were going to collapse. She took out a nip from her purse, ***** of course, and cheered to the new day.
Feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, she pried her leather jacket off and pulled her black dress over her bed head hair. The girl slowly slid into the water. She floated on her back, envisioning all the places she would rather be. All the other oceans, bed sheet covers, and foreign cigarettes.
Becoming conscious that the big hand on a clock had probably gone around multiple times, she slowly crawled out of the water, and rolled onto the dock. She sat for just one more minute, looking out at the sea. She whispered, “What a pretty blue” and sighed. Then she pulled the dress on, and walked to the house, as it began to rain. Arriving at that perfect-looking house, she became fixated on a tiny bit of mold that started to grow on the picket fence. Then she went inside and left her jacket at the door because she was never one to wear her emotions on her sleeve.
She crept back up the familiar stairs, and back into the turquoise covers. His eyes still sealed with slumber, appearing as if maybe he was in a never ending dream. She sat wishing sleep would embrace her, like it had for her husband. Instead she looked at the ceiling, and mouthed the word “home” as a tear slid from her eye and dripped onto her ocean- filled hair.
