Another piece from another class. And a little different than what I’ve posted before.
The Day She Left
He awoke hours before the sun did. The sharp breeze rolled in through his window and brushed against his raised skin. In a hurry, he threw on warm clothes, crept down the stairs, walked five blocks, snuck into his girlfriend’s house, snuck her out of her house, walked her across the bridge, stopped at a grassy knoll in the field, and watched the sunrise paint the night sky in hues of creamy orange and crimson red.
They sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, holding each other’s chilled hands as they passed a blunt back and fourth. It warmed their fingers when they held it, and made their mouths tingle with smoke when they sucked at its end. From afar, one could not tell who was taking a hit, for in the cold night both exhaled thick, foggy breaths. They’d glanced at one another a few times. The girl let out a slight cough and the boy flicked the end of the blunt to rid of the ashes.
She was leaving him today. They had fought it all out already. Anything that could be said had been said, including their goodbyes. All that was left was for her parents to drive her to the airport to see her off.
She was flying from Seattle to Miami, as far as she could get from him. That’s what he accused her of in one of his fits. It was in that fit that he smashed his own phone. He would have to get a new phone and a new number, and they thought it best that way. There would be no way to reconnect. No checking in on each other. No nostalgic, late night/early morning phone calls.
As the sun finished painting its canvas and started peeking over the horizon, the boy flicked away the rest of the blunt and glanced over to the girl. He studied her soft face: the lips he wouldn’t get a chance to see again, the eyes he wouldn’t be able to see again, the cheeks he wouldn’t be able to caress again.
He brushed off his bottled up feelings and stood. Once on his feet, he extended his hand to the girl. They left the grassy knoll in the field, found their way over the bridge again, snuck the girl back into her house, and when he left the boy never looked back. He simply walked in the middle of the road until he came to his own house.
The lights were on. His parents were awake. But he didn’t care.