I am still awake, even though the red numbers on my clock read 11:59 pm. It is not that sleep has evaded me again; instead, I have chosen to be awake at this hour. When the glaring numbers change to 12:00 am, I stand up and stretch, careful not to let my feet slap on the wood flooring. Taking a black marker off of my desk, I make a large "X" through the 23rd of February, which also has "100" scrawled across the miniscule calender box. I have been waiting for this day for a long time.
I slip a pair of jeans over my sweatpants, tugging my worn out t-shirt over the waistband of the dark jeans. I slipped out of my bedroom, glancing at the door next to mine. Even though it was dark in the hallway, I knew that the door knob of that door was covered in dust; I don't know the last time it had been opened.
I manage to get out of the house without trouble, and as I leave, I note that there are two empty wine glasses sitting by the sink; Mom and Dad have been drinking again. I climb onto my bicycle, which is laying on the cluttered front porch, and I start to pedal away from my home. It would be more aptly called my prison.
My bike jolts me up and down the rocky hills of my rural Yuma home. The land goes on forever in front of me, and I knew that I could escape, if that was my wish. Even though my home is a mere ensnarement, I wouldn't leave my parents all alone.
By the time I reach the dock of the lake, my leg muscles are aching, but only my subconscious registers this. I drop the bike on the water-stained wood and begin my trek to the other side of the man-made lake. As I walk, I keep my eyes on the ground, frequently picking up tiny purple plants. Neither of us had known whether it was a flower or a weed, but they were her favorites, if only for the color. When I reached the opposing side of the lake, my fists were filled with one hundred of the tiny buds. I sat down and sorted the plants into two piles.
I had completely lost track of time when I heard the crunch of gravel, and I immediately turned to face it. The wind was at my back, but she was walking directly into the torrents of sand and air without so much as a flinch. People had always told us that our likeness was uncanny, but I disagree. She had royal beauty; I was merely average. I watched her approach, but when her feet touched my patch of grass, no words passed between us; our silent gaze was enough. She sat beside me, and I pushed half of the buds in her direction. As she picked them up, she handled each one with unnatural care, and I couldn't tear my gaze away as she gently placed each individual bud on the surface of the water. The gentle breeze pulled them towards the middle of the lake.
We did not speak; we never do. Instead, we simply enjoy each other's company; neither of us have true friends. After a while, I release my collection of buds into the water as well and lay in the grass with her. Together, we watch the beautiful, star-filled sky and listen to the crickets sing.
When she stands up, my joy is replaced with sorry, yet I also rise eagerly. I want to beg her not to go, to come home with me, but I know words will be futile so I stay silent. I can see the sadness in her eyes as she hugs me, but she remains quiet as well. As I rest in her warm embrace, her lips brush my cheek, and that is my sign. I wait until she has left, and then, I retrieve my bike. I ride back in home peacefully, and when I get to my small home, I lay my bike down quietly. I go back to my room, taking off the jeans and brushing them off. Then, I unpin my calender and get my black marker. I sit on my bed and begin to number the days, starting on February 24th. 1...2...3...
I don't know when she will be back, but I know I am lucky to see her. That period of one hundred days always seem like the longest I have ever known, and I wonder if it will always be this way. I re-pin my calender, and my period of waiting has started again.
A/N: So... just a little short story I wrote during study hall, made of two prompts combined. Anyways, sorry it's not edited! I hope you enjoyed it; read and review, please!
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