The metro doors buzzed shut.
He couldn’t help smiling. It made him feel a bit stupid. But fuck it he thought, at least he had something to smile about.
He just felt good. He didn’t know how to describe it; perhaps a mix of calm, well being and exhaustion, but the good kind. Everything else seemed to have disappeared and the feeling had enveloped everything, he was just there, sitting on that seat, grinning aimlessly. Was this how being happy felt like? In any case he could tell that everyone around him wanted what he was having.
He couldn’t really recreate a complete picture of her, but she was there, in flashes. He could make out the silhouette of a face, the soft echo of distinct nothingness’s that had enthralled his ears only hours before. He remembered the creases her eyebrows formed as they ceaselessly shaped and reshaped around every flicker her eyes made. He couldn’t shrug the feeling; it was if she were still making circles on the palm of his hand, each fingertip etching a map of her intentions, or his every thought. He was pretty fucked.
He shifted in his seat, trying to change the song that he was listening to. A lingering scent scattered like drops all around him. Well, one thing that had to be said was that she definitely knew how to pick out her perfume. It was almost as if he could still feel her breath on his neck. He wanted to go back, but he knew he had nothing left to give, he wasn’t even sure if he had anything left to say; he was void and infinite at once.
A sweet cordial trickled through every cord of his body. He remembered everything and yet nothing, he still couldn’t recreate an entire image of her, and yet he knew every sun kissed line, the birthmark nestled on the left side of her neck, the smoothness of every scar. His eyes lit up as he thought about the little “Hey,you!” that accompanied him every time he’d bite her lower lip.
Screwed, would definitely be an understatement, he thought.
He remembered someone telling him once that they would forget every few days how good they felt with someone, a bit like waking up from an especially delightful dream. You knew you had it, but the specifics somehow escape you. He thought it was strange how quickly we forget the good things life throws our way. Maybe he just didn’t want to jinx it, as the saying goes, the landing is always worse than the fall, and Jesus, he’d fallen.
His pocket vibrated, he took his phone out. He’d gotten a message. It was from her. His mind went up like a fucking forest fire. He knew he wasn’t sure of very much, but one thing that he was certain of, was that she was there, in flashes, sitting next to him on that empty metro seat.