Krictic

i had fun writing this...

I’m sitting here in nothingness. I’m pressing my knee; pushing, pushing, teasing my fresh bruise there. Numb: I can’t feel anything.

 

I’m crying. Tears falling down from my eyes, to my cheeks, taking a turn towards my nose then down my lips. The liquid tastes salty. My left arm is itching. A three-day cut I made there is itching. I’m scratching it, thinking that I have to make new ones later.

 

My long hair begins to fall beside my arms as I bury my face on my bended knees. I’m counting the little stones that my hand blindly picked. One, two, three… make a wish, Kricie. Make a wish.

 

A tap on my shoulder. “Do you like novels?” he asked.

 

I’m looking behind. There is no one. Tears are falling again; knuckles as white as chalk insanely attacking an invisible opponent on my head. Go away, stupid! Go away!

 

Someone is sitting across me; staring, watching me with his leg on top of the other.

 

I’m staring back at him. Where? Where did I see him before?

 

He’s coming close to me. He won’t look anywhere else; he’s looking into my eyes knowingly. As if he’s been there. He’s sitting in front of me, lifting his hand and then pushing my hair away. And then, smiling.

 

He’s touching my nose; playfully touching it. I’m lifting my hand to meet his. Our fingers are intertwining… they fit perfectly. His other hand is on my cheek; slowly taking the tears away. He’s touching my pale lips. His finger is pushing it gently; as if making sure that my lips are soft.

 

He’s moving closer. I’m feeling the air that’s coming out of his nose. Our foreheads kissed. I’m looking away. I can’t keep our stare anymore. But he’s lifting my chin, making me look again at those eyes…

 

His eyes are closing; his lips blindly finding mine. And then, I’m loving the sweet scent radiating from him. I’m feeling lost in the midst of him, drowning slowly in his arms.

 

I’m pushing him kindly. I’m pulling my hand away from his, my cheek left his hand. He’s looking puzzled now. His eyes are asking why.

 

I’m smiling. I’m lifting my hand and I’m tracing a line on his face starting from his forehead, to his left eye brow, to his beautiful eyes, taking a turn towards his nose, to his lips; spending quite a time touching it. And then I’m holding his cheek. He’s mouthing some empty words. My thumb is caressing his chin, playing with the funny little hairs there.

 

He’s vanishing. I’m walking away.