Consumed

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I fell heavily into my chair and exhaled the toxicity of my day. I was sure I looked like that of a weeping willow hunched over its favorite place to rest. With my arms hung over the sides of the chair and my legs outstretched, I slid down, further a...

I fell heavily into my chair and exhaled the toxicity of my day. I was sure I looked like that of a weeping willow hunched over its favorite place to rest. With my arms hung over the sides of the chair and my legs outstretched, I slid down, further and further. I grabbed the blanket beside me and covered myself with its entirety. It smelled just like you. Strong, but subtle, I let it consume me. The smell of you reminded me of newly fallen rain or a freshly mown field. Everyone knew, but only I could put my finger on such familiarity. I lie in wait, hoping you’d walk through the door and say this was all some cruel form of torture. This wouldn’t have been the first instance I’ve been called a dreamer. I missed you, was an understatement. You consumed me, but not that of control or infatuation. I missed the way your tube socks sounded on the hardwood floors of our den. Sometimes when you were intensely concentrated on something, you’d bite your bottom lip and scowl. Your hair reminded me of your soul, as hard as you tried to keep it under control; it simply did what appeased itself. In your left eye, there were grains of hazel and when the light hit you just right, it looked exactly like diamonds. I never told you I saw you, but when you cooked dinner, you would sing every ingredient to a different tune. This made my heart so happy knowing you were putting yourself into everything you were doing, even the most menial of tasks. But when the days arrived that you stopped smiling, that your singing became less and less, on the days your diamond eyes glistened no more, I had to ask. You told me you were tired because everything was the same. The words “same” and” sameness” clung to my skin like glue and made me nauseous. You said we weren’t going downhill, but we weren’t going uphill as fast as you wished. My heart sank into the deepest pits of my stomach and shattered, this was it. This is where you leave me. Your hair was tamed and your face was blank, I saw that you were tired and I couldn’t have begging you to stay on my conscience. Three days later when the door shut behind you, I sat in silence. I cared not to listen to the radio, didn’t want to hear the television and couldn’t bear the thought of reading a book. “Why indulge in another reality when I can’t even make someone stay,” I thought. I wondered if you knew how much I cared, all the ways I showed you without having to say it. I wondered, if you ever cared about me at all. I pushed myself forward, away from the chair and got up. I drug my feet like heavy anchors down the hallway and cracked the bedroom door open. I hadn’t stepped foot in here since you left. Your scent leaked through the crevasses like oil on the ocean and I was consumed, once more and eternally, by the thought of you. I reached into the nightstand and slowly pulled it out. Your favorite book was also the book it took me six years to write, and this copy I signed, especially for you. I flipped open the front cover and saw the square shaped hole I had cut into all the pages. Inside this space, was the box with your ring inside. I bought it two weeks ago after I saw you glancing at it in a jewelry store we walked by on our way to our favorite bakery. I lied to you once, and it was on this day. I told you the older gentleman in front of us dropped his key and I was returning it. I told you to go on and I’d catch up. Without a second thought and being on the phone with your best friend, you kissed my cheek and trotted along. You had no idea I was buying the first piece to our forever, and I guess now it didn’t really matter. I slammed the book closed and slid the door shut behind me. I wanted to set that room on fire, but it would do nothing by means of erasing your memory. I was not angry, I was sad, consumed. You were without a doubt, missing from me, and I was paying the price for loving you with the heart of the sun and the soul of a demon. I was consumed entirely by that of your smile, and the ache of your absence.

Alexandra L. Narron

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