the journal - h.s.

28

[harry’s pov]

“Styles did you ever find that journal of yours?” With her big brown eyes she looked up at me, as she opened the frozen thai box so she could put it in the microwave. With a smoke in her left hand between her index and middle finger, I watched her tear the plastic off.

“Yup,” I popped the p, while seated on the kitchen counter with my feet resting on one of the cupboard handles. She finally got it off and opened the microwave behind her. Placing the extra large box in the center - just like we usually did on Thursdays - she turned the thing on and the box immediately started turning, while the machinery gave off a rumbling sound. It was silence except from the small windowm which was opened - you could hear the distant sound of yelling from a fight I reckoned.

“That’s fucking great mate! I thought you were all grumpy this past week because of that thing still being lost,” she leaned against the counter next to me and followed my gaze to look at the microwave. Had I been grumpy? It was such a weird word. Grumpy. Frustrated maybe yes.

In 24 hours it would have been exactly 7 days, 1 hour and about 10-15 minutes since I had last seen her. She had crowded my mind as if had I been obsessed. Which I weren’t. But I definitely didn’t mind her taking up my thoughts - even though it was painful to recall her soft smile and the well balanced lines of her features it was still better than thinking about him. And about my life in general.

As I watched the uplighted inside of the microwave I recalled how I had watched the little red Beetle drive away last Friday night. Even long after it had disappeared from my sight I had still been standing there watching the last place I had seen it before it turned around the corner. Amber. I had been standing with a little smile spreading on my lips as I tried imprinting the last hour of my life to my brain so I would never forget. Never forget how her name was my favorite gem and just perfect. Never forget how she had been holding her breath as I had passed her in the door in my room. Never forget the sight of her surprised eyes as she had finally managed to relax. How her eyes glittered.

I hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Instead I had kept smiling at the thought of her having my journal with her at this moment. Maybe she had been reading it? Maybe it had laid next to her hand, while she had drifted off into sleep?

I had filled out three pages of a new journal that night.

“So why are you grumpy then?” Jenny asked me as she exhaled the smoke into the air, which was starting to smell of thai food. I felt my stomach rumbling at the scent.

“I’m not grumpy.”

She poked my knee playfully, “whatever you fucking enclosed freakshow.” She grinned at me as the familiar noise of the microwave sounded. Pushing herself off the counter, she threw the cigarette in the sink. As I managed to open the cupboard behind me and withdrawing two plates, I once again thought about asking Jenny about her. Jenny would have told me if Amber had asked about her ‘fucking enclosed freakshow’ of a roommate right? She would have mentioned right? Would she tell Amber if I asked Jenny about her?

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