I mean, I really remember. Normally that never happens with me, but I remember everything. Every little detail, from the seven gold flecks in your eyes, to the angle of your smile, to the shade of happiness painted on your toes.
You ran down the cold street on a chilly September night – it was September seventeenth, because it was three days before you left that town, and you left on September twentieth, one day before the first day of Autumn.
Your hair was soaked from the rain; your golden locks weren’t curly, like they usually were. Thanks to the rain, your hair was straight, and trailed down to the middle of your back. You were dressed in the light blue summer dress you wore to your work’s office party. The glittery pink lipstick and gold-glittered eyeliner you chose for the look was gone, and was running down your cheeks. Maybe the rain tried washing it away, or maybe it was your tears.
You didn’t have shoes; you had blue heels, that were two inches, that you wore with your outfit. Where you had lost them, I don’t know. But when you ran up my drive and hammered on my front door in desperation and pain, you were barefoot.
I remember opening the door, and thinking Who could possibly need me at this late hour? When I saw that it was you, through the scratched lens of my reading glasses, my heart stopped. My world froze. My blood melted at the pure sight of you.
You were crying. You were shaking. You were broken. “Can I come in?” is what you said, and you said it in a calm tone, as if your world wasn’t falling apart. Like everything was perfectly fine.
Instead of replying with words, I simply stepped to the side and let you in.
In you came, dripping rain water all over the hardwood floor. I closed the door and looked at you. Although soaked, you still looked fantastic. I would never say that to you, of course, but it still was true.
Your blue eyes met mine; I remember the gold specks in your eyes as they caught the hallway light. You weren’t crying anymore, but your cheeks were stained with tears. You were studying me, as I was studying you.
“It was raining outside,” you said, and that took me out of my trance; I went to the bathroom and grabbed you some towels so you could dry up, then I went to my room and grabbed a faded black AC/DC tee and a pair of navy blue plaid pajama pants. In a stutter of words, I told you that the bathroom was right there, and you could change. I felt like a fool, tripping over my words. I thought after that, you’d actually hand the clothes back to me and leave.
But you stayed; you chuckled a bit at my embarrassment, and you went to the bathroom to change.
My heart was beating out of my chest; my mind raced like it was the first place driver of an illegal street race. I smiled like an idiot to myself, and I made you a cup of caramel hot chocolate, because I knew it was your favorite.
When you came out of the bathroom, I gave you your cup, and we sat down on the couch. We sat there in silence for an eternity and a half, looking at each other like the longer we looked, the more we’d discover.
Finally, you spoke: “Thank you, for the clothes. They’re really comfortable.”
That started one of the best conversations of my life.
I asked why you were crying, and in an emotional retelling, you told me that you had caught your boyfriend of three years was flirting with your boss. You were mad, and sad, and glad.
We poured our hearts out, and we laughed and cried, and we became closer in a few short hours.
The next three days were like that night you came: we talked and talked, and we were just two humans who seemed like longtime friends who were passing time with the gossips and stories of the past.
It was heaven.
Then, on the third day….
I was in the kitchen, making steak and potatoes for supper. You came iver yo me, and said, “You need to sit down.”
I did, and watched you.
You looked stressed. Worried. Scared. You met my eyes, and told me you needed to leave. Not just leave the house. You needed to leave the city. You said you knew your boyfriend would want to come back and talk to you, but you didn’t want to be there when that happened.
I understood. I called a cab, paid for it, gave you money for a plane ticket.
We sat on the porch, watching the rain, until the cab came. We stood up, you turned to me, and you hugged me. You hugged me, after whispered in my ear, “I’ll remember you.”
Walking back down my drive, you crawled in the taxi.
As it pulled from the curb, you looked at me, and smiled.
I watched the cab until is vanished. And I continued to watch it.
And I can tell you, that I will remember you.
Ello, lovelies! This piece was inspired by September by Daughtry. If you haven’t heard this song, I suggest you take a listen, because it is fabulous.
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