28. Pulling your puzzles apart.

One time he came over to her house.
The rooms were filled with postcards and the subtile smell of stew.
The postcards where everywhere. Under the chairs, taped to the refrigirator.
Stacks of them on the kitchentable, and one that he thought had fallen into the sink by mistake.
The postcard was wet but he could still make out the words. ”forget me.” it said.
And then some other words he couldn´t quite make out.

She had tried to destroy it without being a firehazard. The feeling of lost love had changed into furious rage that was pumping thru her icy veins. She grabbed him by the hand, her perfect substitute, her nothing. Tried to kiss the former love out of her life once and for all.

In the morning she awoke by the sunlight rising thru her open windows.
Her nothing was sitting by the bed and as she reached for his back she discovered that he was reading all of her postcards.
Every word she had saved from her former lover.

-I don't understand this, do you still love him?
he said it with newly grown jealosy shining thru his darkgreen eyes.
Jealous of that he was not the one her heart had been beating so strong for.
He was not the apple of her eye.

He continued:
-you're trouble and misery, but I´m falling for you. I love you.

She had waited for so long for someone to say those words to her again but now that they came out it was from the wrong mouth, the wrong voice, and the wrong, icecold heart that it was dedicated to.

They sat there, he was waiting for a response, a reaction of some kind, something in her eyes that showed that she was aware of his affections and adored them as much as he adored her.
IT IS THE WORST CASE SCENARIO, she thought as the words were slippning out of his mouth and into her mind.

For as long as she had remembered this was what she wanted. He was perfect, she truly adored him but in some way, no matter how hard she tried to convince her icecold heart to unfreeze for this boy it seemed to be permenantly frozen. It was not an eggshell-heart but this was not a better alternative in any way. She banged continiously her fist against her heart in the desperation to feel something she so truly wanted to feel, but nothing worked.

She looked into his eyes but the butterflies in her stomach were on a permanent vacation.
By the look of his face, her butterflies were vacationing in his stomach.