Littered Traces

The day first came in as scorching hot, bringing about conditions of sweating bullets, and sticky hair. As 6PM came, however, nobody ever guessed of the mellow arrival of the harsh winds and heavy rains alongside.

She found herself on their front porch, her thoughts aimlessly drifting on the nearness of another exam waiting to decide her fate, Oreo cheesecakes, then finally, the surface tension of the raindrops. The wind subtly touches her face, the world around her falls silent and the only thing noisy is the roar of Thor and the voice in her head.

I could not find you here.

Not a single place where a piece of him wasn’t left behind. Not the anger she carries in her heart, from way back grade school when he used to poke her with his newly sharpened pencils. Not the confusion, brought about by his most perfect smile, as he waved her hello. Not the pain always, always touched by the sound of the last syllable of a certain number, signaling the end to their usual conversation. Not even the song that played inside her head over and over again, at the sight of the boy who knew of music that existed outside the sphere of the FM radio frequency.

She then wonders, when she will stop being visited by thoughts like these — thoughts brewing over the spaces unfilled.

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