Composed 4/9/11
Description: This was written solely because the boy I was dating at the time wanted me to write something for him. This is the result, and I’m impressed with it, as it was so spur of the moment. It definitely reflects my feelings for him at the time.
Cheek cupped in hand, she stared blankly at that flashing, vertical line, the only black mark visible on the otherwise blindingly white page. Her unoccupied index finger dusted the keypad, sending the cursor to the bottom of the screen, where an attractive blue and orange logo called to her so temptingly. She hesitated, knowing full well that the next few seconds would determine the rest of the evening. Click it, and she might as well forget about being productive. Ignore it, and there was still hope, still a sliver of a chance that inspiration would soon find her.
Her fingertip was startled from the button as a soft buzz and brief glow caught her attention. A mixture of feelings welled up inside her at that moment – surprise, frustration, and a kind of giddiness that she would deny vehemently if confronted. Nevertheless, she did not hesitate to grasp the small device and flip open the top.
A smile was brought to her lips soon after, an eager reply swiftly returned. However, in the downtime of the conversation, she glanced back toward the screen and scowled. Never one for anger, however, her expression melted, and, with a yawn, she was encouraged to fold her arms on the desk and rest her cheek in the homemade pillow.
She woke up hours later, again startled by the persistent buzz of her nearby cell phone. Adrenaline kicked in, and her head jerked upward suddenly. She grasped for the phone, certain a hundred messages, their content increasing in confusion and possibly anger, were waiting for her. However, after she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she discovered only one message – the one that had woken her.
Let me in.
Her confusion was broken by the loud chime of the doorbell.
She leapt out of the chair and to the main hallway, halting once in front of a mirror to refine the rebellious flips of her hair that often accompanied sleep. Soon, however, she tugged open the door and smiled at the silhouette that stood waiting for her.
“Come in,” she urged, and he obeyed.
They took their spot on the sofa in the front room, though the atmosphere in this interaction had been somewhat different than their ones in the past. Their conversation took a deeper tone, and the physical distance between them grew less and less. There was little tenseness in the transition either. Words flew swiftly and easily from their lips; their hands touched with little hesitation. A gift was presented as well – an old sweatshirt of his she dawned as protection from the cold.
However, just as each became full of pleasant warmth, it felt as if they were literally being pried apart. The walls around them seemed to turn to white, the furniture melted away into thin air. Each was shoved back on his feet and forced backward. They reached out to try and grasp the other’s hands and called to each other in panic, but to no avail. Suddenly, they were numb, unable to feel, their limbs tingling, and unable to even sense the other’s voice…
The persistent buzz of her cell phone jerked her awake.
The adrenaline rush died quickly, however, as the realization dawned on her that she had just been dreaming. She sighed and shook her head as she grasped the phone one last time.
Her limbs froze as she spotted the not unfamiliar sleeve that covered her arm and wrist. No, impossible. However, one glance down confirmed she was wearing the exact same sweatshirt from her dream. No. Surely she had borrowed it some other time, and it had just reappeared in her dream. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember ever wearing it before…
With uncertain fingers, she pried open her phone.
Hey, sorry. Fell asleep. Had a crazy dream.
Scraps of Paper 