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━ OCTOBER , 2022 ━
l'appel du vide(french) :the call of the void describes this impulse to hurl yourself into a void.
SKY
✧
THECOLOR OF Isabelle's sweater reminded me of the tequila sunrise last night that had led me to meeting her in this crowded café during my lunch break. There were plenty things I could do instead ─ read the fresh copy of the Yale Med Journal for example. I always had better things to do. But today was an exception. And a very unlikely one.
Isabelle Wilson was nothing close to the girl I had met almost three years ago on a Christmas Eve. I even forgot I had ever met her ─ until now.
Until last night.
She was far from the tomboyish high school girl I had a hard time pushing away. I figured life happened and she wasn't seeing everything through rose tinted glasses any more.
Presently she sits before me, part of her face soaked in the post-rain sunlight coming in through the floor to ceiling windows and I can't help but notice the soft pink tint on her cheeks as she stirs her cup of espresso with no cremé.
To be honest, I never expected her to be the black coffee type of girl. She was more of a milk and extra cremé, apparently. But I guess I had never been good at making assumptions.
"So that's all you wanted to say?" Her smooth voice puts an end to my period of observation, making me straighten up.
"Huh?" I blink.
"Look . . . if you're taking me as a kid once again, you're going the wrong way. I know it meant nothing. So you need not call me here just to remind me of that. I have a life to deal with." She huffs, blowing a strand of chocolate brown hair out of her face.
"Uh, I didn't mean to offend you."
"Sure you didn't."
She scoffs. I had to admit, the sarcasm made her appear ten times more attractive than she already is. It was almost as if I was speaking to someone new. But, if I speak on technical terms, she was new. As new as a spring flower. It wasn't like I ever got to know her. I didn't want to, of course. But now I kind of did.
"I just wanted to make myself clear. Given the kind of history we have." I speak again, my fingers running along the rim of my porcelain mug, half full of lemon and ginger tea.
"Excuse me? We don't really share any history. I do. For you, everything that was three years ago, was just another girl crushing over you and you not giving a single fuck about it."
