Tuesday, 26 November 2013

Stranger

They sat next to each other on the train, still pretending to be strangers. Her deep emerald green eyes darted over to his seat every few seconds, while he kept his firmly locked on the window, trying to admire the scenic winter view. Raindrops slid down the window, disappearing like their memories, like their hopes, their plans, their dreams. She adjusted her coat, shivering at the thought of the empty train, countless seats around and yet he chose to sit right opposite her. He must not have noticed, she thought. He had. A feeling of nostalgia exploded inside of her as she thought of the picnic, the one they’d had for their very first date. She’d brought sandwiches, he’d made pie. They threw their heads back in laughter as the spring birds sang for their passion. Everything was so simple back then. The whistle of the speeding train snapped her back into focus. She avoided his eyes, the desperation inside of her almost too much to bear. He stole a glance at her slim figure, a quick thought flashing through his head – she’d lost weight, a lot of it. He hoped it wasn’t because of the breakup. It was. He remembered their weekly baking sessions – she’d run to the oven and whine when she saw the heads of the cupcakes, burnt, as usual. He’d suggest coating them with layers of vanilla icing. They didn’t taste as bad that way. They hadn’t quite meant to finish the whole tub. It had just happened. She swallowed the lump in her throat and struggled to draw back the tears, memories of the fight flooding her mind. The yells echoed in her head, the insults strangling her heart. She couldn’t remember when things started to go wrong. She couldn’t remember when the spark had begun to sizzle, when it blew out for good. She couldn’t remember when the man she’d once loved with all her heart had become nothing more than a stranger.