vingt huit

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{ Trigger Warning }

3:15

After I read Rae's letter yesterday, I broke down and sobbed.
I cried like a baby.
I clutched the sheets to try and hold myself together.
It didn't work.
I eventually fell back asleep and woke up for school a couple hours later.

I'm sitting in my driveway now.
My mom isn't home and I dread the idea of being alone.

I walk inside and drop my backpack on the couch.
I take a deep breath and head to my room.
Sweats seem appropriate right now.
When I turn the light on, I'm nearly brought to my knees.

Rae is sitting on my bed, picking at the frayed hole in her jeans.
Her eyes glance at me then focus back on her pants.
She isn't wearing her usual shirt though.
She's wearing one of my white long sleeved shirts.
The color clashes against her skin.
The sleeves are rolled slightly and one side almost falls over her shoulder.
Her shoes are on the floor and her hair is slightly damp.

She's so innocently beautiful.

"Hey," she says quietly.

"Hi," I reply at the same volume.

She chews on her bottom lip, a nervous habit I assume.

I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves.
I can't wrap my mind around the fact that she's here, in my room, after two weeks of nothing.
I knew she'd come back, but the thought of her having moved on was too painful to imagine.
She continues to pick at her jeans and avoid my eyes.

"I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your shirt, it was raining and I didn't think it'd be a big deal," she rambles.

I shrug, "it's fine."

I remember the first time she wore my clothes.
Ever since then, Rae would come over whenever it rained and she'd rummage through my closet to find something new.
It didn't bother me, I've always liked her in my clothes, and she always put everything back.

I look at the girl in front of me now and see fairly smeared makeup, wild hair, and a frown hiding her smile.
She still looks lovely, but she looks less . . . put-together.
Her skin that is usually as white as a blank page in my notebook, has been tainted by the words left by the Earth's harsh winds and twisted ideas.
My shirt almost blends in with her body but a folded piece of paper in the pocket gives the fabric dimension.

Rae finally looks up at me, "can we talk?"

I nod a few times and then move to join her on my bed.
I sit down and stare at her shoes, they're covered in mud.

"So," she says.

"So," I repeat.

This is awkward.

She looks around my room and rests her head against my wall, pushing her legs to lay flat against my bed.

"Did you get my letter?" Rae asks.

"Yes."

And it completely tore me apart.

"Did it sound insane?" She questions.

I laugh lightly, "no. I'm sure mine did though."

She scrunches her nose and shrugs, "eh, a little."

I look up at her and see a smile on her lips.
I stare at them for a moment, maybe a bit too long, but she doesn't call me out on it.

Sitting three feet from her is almost deadly.
But if that means I'll be closer to her, it's a death I'll gladly accept.

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