By the time she could hear the front door click shut, she was already shrugging off her coat and tossing the discarded garment on one of the kitchen barstools. It was admittedly too hot out for a jacket in the late August sun, but the feel of the soft fabric brought her a sense of security. The cool nip of the air conditioning was relieving though-a counterbalance to the blazing rays and heat trapping coat. The frigid blast from the refrigerator doors opening froze the sweat dripping down her forehead. She took a large gulp of water, savoring the sweet taste before turning on her heels and sinking into the corner imprint in her plush, burgundy coach. Nestling into its crevices, she pulled down the afghan her grandma had crocheted decades ago when her mom was still a child. The stress of the day was building to a tension headache and overly achy muscles. It was a relief to finally be able to burrow into the ancient sofa.
"How was your day?" said a soft, raspy voice.
"Can't complain too much I suppose," she said while running her fingers along her scalp and through the tangled tendrils of hair.
"Yeah?" they asked, knowing she likely wouldn't elaborate. "How were your classes then? Learn anything interesting?"
She chuckled. "It's cute you think I'm responsible enough to go to all my classes and pay attention. Fine I guess. Boring. I don't know... I don't know. Confusing. I swear I feel so dumb, like I'm going to fail. But yeah, it was fine."
Their gaze followed as she continued to toy with the ends of her hair. She stared at the ground with a glassy, catatonic gaze, but the deliberation behind her eyes was still apparent.
"Yeah I guess you are kind of an idiot sometimes."
Her head snapped up and the glass behind her eyes shattered making way for a fiery glare."
"Excuse me?" she questioned, her brow raising in exasperation.
"I seem to remember someone looking for their keys for a full fifteen minutes while they were holding them the whole time. And remember when you stated matter of factly that Moby Dick was based off a documentary. In fact, I can recall quite a few times when.."
"Watch it," she warned. "And one, I was very tired that day. Two, that's an easy mistake to make."
They slipped into a smirk.
"You may be an idiot sometimes, but..." they said, holding up their hand to stop her interruptions. "But you know you're smart. Maybe even brilliant. I love the way your mind works."
Her cheeks flushed pink despite the stale, chilled air that still rubbed against her skin. She felt a mix of embarrassment and an odd sense of bashful pride as she recalled all the stupid questions she had asked them and the silly puns she had made. Despite all that, they still thought she was brilliant.
"Yeah?" she questioned. "Thanks."
"Mmm." They gave a non-commital grunt.
"This is hard," she said, her smile fading.
"I know." She pushed her hypnotizing hair off her forehead and behind those small, delicate ears. She wanted to feel the way their fingertips felt when they gently grazed her cheeks, to feel the heat of their palm as they reached out to tuck her tendrils away for her.
"I want you to hold me," she said in a near silent whisper. She wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to spook them or if she just couldn't muster enough air in her lungs. She dug her nails into her fleshy palms feeling her chest constrict. The whole room felt hazy and disorienting. Claustrophobic, yet infinite. Feverish chills invaded her body trailing down her spine and limbs.
"You have no idea what it's like to hear you say that."
"I wish..." she shuddered.
"Me too."
She pulled out of the sullen stillness after several minutes. Hours. She wasn't sure. If she stayed there much longer though, she knew she would fuse into the coach. The cottony fabric of the loose pajamas she pulled on did little to quiet the goosebumps that crawled along her skin.
Moving to the bathroom, she stared into the mirror noting the heavy, gray bags that hung from her eyes. With a deep sigh, she wet her toothbrush. Her mouth went frothy as the toothbrush danced in her mouth, but seconds later, once she spit into the sink, she was back to her normal self. No more Big Bad Wolf, just scared little Red. She could feel the presence of a figure looming behind her.
Flipping the lightswitch and flooding the room with darkness, she slid between the sheets and sandwiched herself on top of the mattress. She pulled the weighted blanket up. It was meant to soothe her pain--mental or emotional, she wasn't sure. Or maybe it just exacerbated her soreness and stiffness.
"I remember when we stayed up for hours watching movies. Remember that one? It had the dude from My Best Friends Wedding in it."
"Oh, yeah." they snickered.
"You couldn't keep a straight face for your life."
"Well you cried when they kissed at the end."
"It was sweet, ok?"
They didn't bring up the hysterics and snottiness that went along with it. Her cries were practically incomprehensible, but something about ‘He said he missed her!' and 'It's just so sweet!' were uttered repeatedly. Memories like that were perhaps the most confusing because they felt the most distinct and warm but wherever her heart began to fill up, melancholy slipped in and pulled the hole's edge.
"You would always snore," she said casually, adjusting the conversation as her thoughts streamed past.
She didn't want to admit that it was too still now. Somehow it was easier to rest with all the bumps of the mattress and the sleepy groans. So she straddled the edge of reality, logic, and blissful fantasy.
She hugged a pillow tightly as she rolled to her side. Despite the weight and warmth of the blanket, she still shivered. She felt the phantom tracing of lines down her arm, the skin freckling from the chill. She had done everything to find comfort, but it eluded her.
"I miss you."
The last flashes of light evaporated as warmth crept back into the room.