Countless days, weeks and months had passed; there isn't any use of keeping track if it wouldn't make a difference, right? Indeed it didn't. A little bird once said, that if you loved someone so much you ought to let them go. Why is that really?
Over the months, she began to see many things in ways she never considered before. Things involving people and other people, especially. She was growing up. She didn't hear from him much anymore, and though a year ago she'd think herself stupid for thinking this, but she was admitting the blessing it really was. Lynette rode on love, pulled it by the hair and made it bow to her on the knees, but that was not who she was and she could never even consider it. So, leave the word all alone in one corner and lets experience life in a new perspective; friendship.
They'd grown to become good friends by now, and surprisingly enough, for herself especially, she can feel herself relaxing in his presence. No longer did she hide her thoughts, pressed her dresses and fake a smile just to please anymore. She was becoming herself and it couldn't have felt any better.
They went out to dine one evening. He picked her up and they talked much, she finally did talk much. If she could've seen herself from outside the window, no kidding she'd think her nerves were building every minute, or at the very least, an immensely awkward feeling would blanket her whole. But it did not, in fact, she was very much comfortable. It proves, she was growing.
They talked and laughed, and something caught her;
Him: You're funny!
Her: Pfft, yea right.
Him: You know why you're so funny?
Her: Why? If you're gonna mock me then you can save it. Haha.
Him: Haha. You're different, that's why.
What's this word 'different' supposed to mean? She gave him that look that read "keep talking if you know what's good for you".
Him: You're different, than them. You know? Them clingy ones.
Her: Haha. I hope I'd die before I turn clingy.
Him: *smiles*
Her: *skeptical*
On their way home, the rain poured just nice and the cool comfort of the car was getting to her eyes. As she slowly fell asleep, she could hear the soft play of music from the radio just brushing her ears. He was singing along to something before she could remember anything else all too vividly. But you know how it feels when you could've sworn you were asleep and yet you could tell what was happening? Does that happen to everyone? Just out of curiosity.
As she slept, she could hear that so faint a voice singing somewhere in the background, reminding her of only one person, the person she loved so much and that had left her and the world standing still, still even t times now. She felt her head getting light and her eyes warm. She pressed the lids, sucked in along with the almost too overwhelming feeling and draining out tears down her cold cheeks. It felt good, and bad all the same. It felt satisfying and agitating all the same. The song played again and again, it was soothing, and she thanked him in her heart in her sleep.
That night, as she sprawled across the duvet, arms and legs stretched to release the aches and agony of the day; he told her to get out, onto the porch. Confused and suspense built, she crept outside to find a red bag waiting behind the car. She smiled and shook her head, she knew she should've expected this. If colours and shapes can spell things, that squarishness inside, and the bright red spelt nothing but happy birthday, proud and cheeky. She smiled over and again, and slept smiling all the way.
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