I'm held a medieval prisoner in the outdoors. The zephyr screeches and gusts of wind pass by, letting the fragile ash grey oak leaves diminish and pervade in the air: The only remainders of winter and his sensation. I want to breathe him all in, his fresh laundry straight-out-of-the-dryer aroma, my fingertips coiling his chestnut brown silky curls and his gentle hands gripping mine in the depths of the flurry winter season.
I can seamlessly recollect that winter, brewing hot chocolate and permeating gleaming marshmellows with toasted auburn encircling the ridges. I had a blossoming fondness for his childlike wonder twinkle in his irises when he would graciously sip the beverage and how his celestial beauty would glimmer in the reflection. On that short term trip, I had lost my vintage fur embroidered gloves he had gifted me it was a integral heirloom of his great grandmother's.
We spent from morning to dusk clawing through glistening pavements cluttered with snow as well as battling the delicate snowflakes landing on the tips of our noses. But it was no use, they were forgotten in the concealed glacial solstice.
"Perhaps they were lost back home? Look, I could really use some contact near the crackling fire?" He suggests, swinging his head in my direction.
"Okay, what ever you want." I say in accordance.
We huddled near each other back to our cabin that day intensively gripping each other, using our bodies temperature's to even out the animalistic nature of the poudrerie. I could feel my nose begin to chip off into bits of flesh and my ears shift into a rouge hue but I reminded myself that as long as we were together, I would arrive back in one piece. Safely.
This comfort has suddenly wore off, my irises passionately burn into my cellphone, scrolling through what we were to what we became. I click every story, just like clockwork, view all the tagged posts just like clockwork and she frantically arises onto my screen with her head tilted to the side, pilied by her luminous raven black hair trimmed into a apple cut framing her feline shaped hazel green irises. Her expression is cutthroat and sharp intensifying her glaring gaze. With the ends of her mouth down turned and her pristinely manicured french nails gliding across his jawline she was evidently signifying he was hers from now on.
I didn't know whether to scream or burst into tears. This was an emotion I have never experienced in my 20 years of living. I felt replaced, hurt and it was the worst toxic act of perfidy towards me. My resentment of her started building up so terribly that my stomach ached whenever I would hear her initials. The thought of them together made me extremely fatigued. However it wasn't supposed to be like this, his light hearted spirit and fondness for me made me fall head over heels for him a soul bond was established already and I was and would be his indentured servant for all eternity until he disappeared off this planet.
Nevertheless, my cellphone buzzes with a notification and I view her story in clandestine. She's wearing my gloves my hat and making our hot chocolate. He cuddles her, a loving expression smeared across face. I aim to exit the story as soon as possible but a spark in me ignites, compelling me to screenshot the story and zoom into the image. Jesus Christ, she's making hot chocolate with an ingredient he is deathly allergic too. Something in me wants to warn her yet I feel a malicious smirk form on my face.
This is how the chapter will culminate.
