literature

what if i, what if i don't float?

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Literature Text

a sunlit smile tucked itself in the corner of her mouth, waiting to blossom against the center of his palm. he was late, as usual. if he didn't wake up with her, he was late. she didn't mind, though. it was actually more like clockwork to know he would be seventeen minutes late to everything.

she wandered the kitchen, tidying up the counters. she had been baking earlier. or at least, attempting to bake. flour coated everything within a few feet of the oven. she was such a determined little bugger. that's what he always called her. with affection, of course. "why don't you just give up?" he would jest, a loose smirk and a jab in the ribs.

"one day i'll get it right. and it'll be the best goddamned cake anyone will have ever tried." she would always retort, pressing a quick kiss to his lemon cheek.

"one day is so far, though," he whispered once. she didn't notice how he had glanced out the window, a hot second, the raven marring the horizon. she didn't say anything. she just nestled against his chest, pressed her ear against his heartsong, and slipped her fingers along his stomach.

she checked her watch again. it had been twenty minutes now. she tensed for a moment and then shrugged it off, as she danced through the gore of morning illuminating the tile floor. she always had music on. she needed constant noise. it kept her demons at bay. when it was quiet, she could hear their snickers, their snarls worshiping along the nape of her neck, hot and sticky, "everyone abandons you. you are alone. no one will ever stay." but with the music on, loud, she could seep into the words and lose herself against someone else's fallen angel.

the oven beeped and she took out the cake. today's adventure was a peanut butter cheesecake with peanut butter frosting. he loved peanut butter and she thought it would be special if she had finally gotten it right with this concoction! she never liked to try baking the same thing twice. if it didn't work the first time, why try it again in the exact same manner? she always tried to set herself up for success. and she had been dating him for a little over a year now.

wow. a little over a year. she wanted to ask him to move in with her. her place was a little bigger than his. it would make sense. she loved him. she really did. she loved the curl of his hands on her hips and the rasp of his voice as he pretended to sing for her. she loved how he had opened her up, cut into her lightning sternum and massaged her arteries into pumping blood again.

she checked her cell phone as she swiped her finger along the side of the cake, touched the frosting to her tongue, and audibly gasped at how delicious that was. she almost didn't notice her math was wrong: thirty three minutes. she glanced again. no. fifty three minutes. okay. something was wrong now. she called him, listened to the ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.

she pulled on her jacket and hurried to her car. he was never more than seventeen minutes late without a call or a text. maybe she was overreacting. the demons started chewing on her ears. she blasted the music as she drove to his place. she didn't care how insane this seemed. it's been a little over a year. she knew him. she knew his habits. she tried calling again. it just rang and rang.

as soon as she parked the car, she was running up his steps, fumbling with her keys to find his, the banter of devils louder against her skull now. she flung open his door, calling out for him, calling his phone again. she could hear it ringing and she charged into his bedroom.

there was a moment, a long super nova moment, of everything that had boiled up inside of her and ruptured like lava: laughing in a blanket fort, slow dancing in the kitchen, smearing cake on each other's faces, getting down on one knee, yesyesyes, white oleanders and white calla lilies and white roses, white sand and white moon, little pink bows and scattered dinosaurs, bickering and tattling, prom dresses and football games, wrinkles and more white and more pink and more blue.

she never saw black.

until now.

she crumbled against his body, hugging his muted song, and the demons cackled as she sobbed breathlessly and his phone kept ringing and her cake dried out and she saw black, oh she saw black.
i think i'll float, i'll float away...


i saw a prompt: write about a character that is reduced to uncontrollable sobbing without the other character even saying a word or touching them.

this is what i came up. 
© 2014 - 2024 DamagedHomewrecker
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