Minutes

What was I doing here?

The world was a blur around me. I was vaguely aware of the feel of cold metal falling through my fingertips. Then I was fumbling with the metal, twisting it and hearing the purr of an engine beneath me. The tires squealed as I pulled out of the driveway. One of the neighbor’s dogs yelped and dodged what would have been a disastrous impact. But that was forgotten as soon as I slammed the car into drive and stomped on the gas pedal. Nothing mattered at that time, save for one thing.

How I didn’t crash or kill someone was beyond me. I didn’t even pull into a parking spot. I stopped right on the curb, jammed the stick into park, and kicked open my door. Looking down at my watch, my heart leapt in my chest, terror holding me for a moment when I realized that I might be too late. And those last words that I said to her, “If this is what you want, I’m not stopping you. Leave.” No, I could not live with myself knowing that out of anger, I’d pushed her away.

As I neared the train station, my heart still trying to break its way out of my rib cage, I saw it. It was leaving. My breath came in shallow gasps as the weight of what I’d done forced me to my knees. People stared as they walked by, curious gazes wondering for a brief moment about the man who was having trouble getting himself together on the sidewalk of a train station. 

“I can’t believe it’s late. I checked the schedule twenty minutes ago and it was on time!” The irritated edge in the woman’s voice pulled my attention back to the present. I looked for the source of the noise and found a middle-aged woman tapping her foot against the ground, checking at her watch. Late? That one word was all I needed to refill the hope in my chest. With a grunt, I pushed myself up to my feet and sprinted toward the train tracks.

People milled about, that same slightly annoyed emotion filling the atmosphere as children and adults waited for their ride. I searched frantically, pushing through people, even accidentally shoving a woman into the arms of another man. I heard the sound of a slap and smiled grimly to myself. The tracks began to rumble again to my right, just as a young man next to me pushed past me so he could ready himself to get on the arriving train. 

No.

I still hadn’t found her and the train was here. People pulled together, making clusters near the sidewalk so they could board the train. Faces began to blur as I continued to shove, and push, and search. No, no, no. The screech of metal and the train pulled to a stop next to me. People began to board. What if she’d already gotten on? What if she’d already walked away?

I forced through two more people and froze. There she was, suitcase in hand, dismayed and solemn eyes looking at nothing as she waited for her turn on the train.

One moment I was there looking at her, the next my arms were circling around her waist and I was drawing her body against mine. Her green eyes flickered to life before they closed. My lips pressed against hers just as her hands slid up the nape of my neck to run through my hair. All of the agony, the hopelessness that had filled me mere moments before melted underneath her touch. 

The kiss lasted an eternity. I could feel the others around us stopping. Time slowed around us as their gazes lifted to look at the passion before them; as they looked at us. But she was everything, all that I could ever want and never want to lose, and I didn’t care that they saw all the heartache or what I’d done. Warmth filled my chest and my heart didn’t know whether to beat fast or slow. 

The people continued to stare and I knew this train would be leaving late. These passengers would bear witness to what this was before they left for their homes and forgot about us.

We would become a forgotten memory to these strangers. Perhaps some of them would forever remember what they were witnessing now. Perhaps they would only remember the essence of the bond we shared. Perhaps we would remain but an inkling of a memory in the back of a young man’s mind. But there was only one person whom I was sure would never forget. Who would always, always remember.

And she was never going to leave my arms.

shadow . . . you're such a good writer. I can feel the emotion coursing through everything, and it's just so, so beautiful. ;w;

I think I like Lifeline the best, though. It was just so amazing, and as soon as I started I was like asdfl;k' this is amazing.

good job. it was really beautiful.

okay, so here's my second entry. the theme is Reflection.

            All Sheri could think was that she
did not know or like this girl, not at all. As she stared at the girl, she knew
that she was justified in thinking so.

            The girl had coarse brown hair that
fell in messy strands, blocking her pale face. From between the strands of
hair, two tiny slits that made up for eyes gazed emptily back at Sheri, and the
nose jutted out, bumpy and spattered with freckles. Her mouth was thin and
drawn, and there was no hint of a smile anywhere. And her ears. They stuck out
to the point where they could be likened to those of an elephant.

            To put it plainly, the girl was
frightfully ugly.

            She wore a baggy T-shirt over her
grubby jeans, hiding whatever figure she might have had; yet through the
clothes, it was easy to tell that the girl was skinny—painfully so.

            Sheri watched the girl steadily,
trying to collect her emotions. Who was this girl who stood in front of her?

            The girl stared back and turned, as
if for Sheri’s inspection. Her pale white arm showed that there was more to her
story.

             Angry red lines streaked the thin arm, fresh
and old. They ran all over it, so that her arm was lost in a sea of scars.
These lines told a tale—a tale of sorrow, a tale of desperation, of being
driven to the end.

            It hurt Sheri’s heart to watch.

            She brought a hand up to the girl
and touched her face gently, whispering, “What have you done to yourself?”

            The girl made no reply.

            Sheri sighed. She would not trouble
herself now. Maybe later the mystery of this girl would be unlocked.

            She lowered her scarred arm and
walked away from the mirror.l:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />