I love music just as much as I love writing, so in case you're like me, I'll provide you with a song that would be a good "soundtrack" for this story: Happier by Ed Sheeran.
Sometimes, in the middle of an ordinary day, I wonder where you are. What city you’re in. What you’re doing at this very moment. If your eyes are still that light green, like springtime. Of course they are. Then I start thinking how we almost had it all until you fucked everything up by falling out of love with us. The last time I saw you, we sat across from each other at that place we used to go to, the one right off campus with the cinnamon buns. It reminded me of innocence and of how we thought life would always be there in that café, on that street, in that city. We never imagined that I’d be here and you’d be wherever you are and that there would be a continent between us. I’m actually not sure about the continent part, but something in my bones tells me I’m probably right. I heard you found someone new. I’ve seen her shadow in photographs on Instagram, the curve of her back and the angles of her hand. I even know her smile, have studied it trying to figure out what you said to make her laugh. I loved your wit, our banter, my dirty mouth and how you'd kiss me hard to shut me up. She’s beautiful, but you know that already. The worst part is that she’s nothing like me, the first time I saw her blonde hair, I felt like a fraud. As if all that time, all those years, I had been nothing but her stand-in. Do you read her Pushkin and buy her your favourite books? I still have them, dog-eared to mark chapters that you used to love. It’s those small things, the reminders of what we loved and lost.
The folded pages, the first notes of a song, the smell of cinnamon, and spring.
I wonder if almost every boy in the world has bought more than one copy of his favourite book- one for you and one for her, the one that came after. The could have been and the will be. The past and the future. I hate to admit it, but you look happier, you really do.
Read ten very short stories which are now available as a cute collection in my first eBook: This Sweet Life. You can download it for FREE in my store! Or read the individual posts in the Creative Writing category:
Creative Writing: Whiskey
Creative Writing: The Perfect Day in Italy
Creative Writing: Call Me Baby
Creative Writing: The Butterfly Effect
In the eBook:
Creative Writing: The Letter R (Explicit)
Creative Writing: Dear Italy (A Love Letter)
Creative Writing: Airport Arrivals
Creative Writing: Tanqueray and You
Creative Writing: A Thousand Lives
Creative Writing: A Sunday Kind of Love
Creative Writing: Perfect Strangers in Switzerland
Creative Writing: Rooftops and Rome
Creative Writing: The Morning After in New York
Creative Writing: Mulberries in Sicily
Sometimes, in the middle of an ordinary day, I wonder where you are. What city you’re in. What you’re doing at this very moment. If your eyes are still that light green, like springtime. Of course they are. Then I start thinking how we almost had it all until you fucked everything up by falling out of love with us. The last time I saw you, we sat across from each other at that place we used to go to, the one right off campus with the cinnamon buns. It reminded me of innocence and of how we thought life would always be there in that café, on that street, in that city. We never imagined that I’d be here and you’d be wherever you are and that there would be a continent between us. I’m actually not sure about the continent part, but something in my bones tells me I’m probably right. I heard you found someone new. I’ve seen her shadow in photographs on Instagram, the curve of her back and the angles of her hand. I even know her smile, have studied it trying to figure out what you said to make her laugh. I loved your wit, our banter, my dirty mouth and how you'd kiss me hard to shut me up. She’s beautiful, but you know that already. The worst part is that she’s nothing like me, the first time I saw her blonde hair, I felt like a fraud. As if all that time, all those years, I had been nothing but her stand-in. Do you read her Pushkin and buy her your favourite books? I still have them, dog-eared to mark chapters that you used to love. It’s those small things, the reminders of what we loved and lost.
The folded pages, the first notes of a song, the smell of cinnamon, and spring.
I wonder if almost every boy in the world has bought more than one copy of his favourite book- one for you and one for her, the one that came after. The could have been and the will be. The past and the future. I hate to admit it, but you look happier, you really do.
Read ten very short stories which are now available as a cute collection in my first eBook: This Sweet Life. You can download it for FREE in my store! Or read the individual posts in the Creative Writing category:
Creative Writing: Whiskey
Creative Writing: The Perfect Day in Italy
Creative Writing: Call Me Baby
Creative Writing: The Butterfly Effect
In the eBook:
Creative Writing: The Letter R (Explicit)
Creative Writing: Dear Italy (A Love Letter)
Creative Writing: Airport Arrivals
Creative Writing: Tanqueray and You
Creative Writing: A Thousand Lives
Creative Writing: A Sunday Kind of Love
Creative Writing: Perfect Strangers in Switzerland
Creative Writing: Rooftops and Rome
Creative Writing: The Morning After in New York
Creative Writing: Mulberries in Sicily
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