Every morning, as the winter wind drifts through my scarf-covered neck, the presence of courage lives. In the spectrum of the sun, there is a hope I protect—the part of my spirit I pray for, to not be extinguished by my terrible lightheartedness. I see you when the bell rings without an exchange of conversation, but a short greeting; without a gesture, but a nod.
In a dry afternoon, my breaths heavy and damp, you sit beside me for minutes, and we do not say anything, but we look at the sunset. Its beauty graces the nostalgia I feel, and the treasures of regrets I keep and question. Then, of course, you walk away without a word.
The muscles of my mouth are numb when I wake up a few days after. The only water it can get, to bring its life back, is to speak to you the reasons of my fast pulse. Alone in the class, I see you seated at the back, near the corner. Every step is a hesitation, but the will vibrates and so it wins.
But when you look up and I open my pair of flushed lips, the bell rings.
And all the words fall back.
WORD COUNT: 204
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.