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In gimme gimme
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Oct 11, 2017 20:51
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 07:15 |
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oh god who set my brain on mawkish sentimentality/emo crap? I want to burn this but I literally couldn't come up with anything better all weekend, so this is what you get. Sorry! Feel free to crucify me in crits. Prompt: Kepler's Laws As Sure as The Sun Words: 472 I met her at dawn, in a little donut place off Fifth. It was one of those kitschy relics from the 60s, covered with clouded chrome and worn red pleather in a misguided attempt to ape an ancient future. The donuts themselves were alright, but I came for the coffee. It was hot and black and bitter, with a scalding bite that ran up and down your throat. Outside was one of those Northeastern mornings where the frost cracks and runs and refreezes, leaving a slick layer of ice over everything. On mornings like that you tread carefully and still end up more skating than striding. It wasn’t far from my car to the door but I still almost broke my neck twice getting there. Three times technically, but the last time I was near the entrance and turned the lurch into a lunge, wrenching open the door. The hot air from streamed out and steamed on my glasses, leaving me half blind. I stumbled inside and there she was, sitting in a booth, mug cupped in her hands. I still remember the touch of those hands: they were burning, almost feverish, scalding me as they ran up and down. ... Then came all the lazy afternoons lying on plush spring grass. I’d ask her stupid questions and always she’d just laugh and say the same thing: “As sure as the sun will rise!”. I’d start easy: “You think the Sox’ll win this year?”. “As sure as the sun will rise!” she’d say. “You think we’re gonna have another lovely winter?” “As sure as the sun will rise.” she deadpans, rolling her eyes. “What about us? Are we going to stay together?” I prod. “… As sure as the sun” comes the answer, slow and serious. The words drag at me, pulling me into her orbit. ... The last time I saw her was at dusk, in a hospital room crowded with machines. They bleeped and squawked and whirred; she wheezed. I wheezed too, my heart in my throat. Doctors, friends, prayers, and machines had all done all that they could. I hadn’t though. I walk to her side and take her hand, so cold now, asking one last question: “You’ll get through this, right? … right?”. “As sure as the sun will rise.” comes the whispered reply. She must’ve known it was a lie, but it was a lie I needed to hear. ... It’s night now. It’s been night ever since she died. I’m standing on the beach, watching the waves. The moon is out, then it’s in. The tides writhe, thrashing up and down the shore in a spray of foam. The water reaches higher and higher, rushing from knees to neck to nose. It’s over my head now and I sink into the darkness. She is gone, and so am I, spiraling away from the Earth into the black.
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Oct 16, 2017 09:31
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Yuup shits bad. Thanks for the crit obliterati
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Oct 16, 2017 20:47
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