Roses are Red

Chapter 20

Serena's Point of View:

  I sat on the bed across from Zane. He had positioned himself in the window box with his right leg hanging off the edge, and his left crossed at the knee. A cigarette lay fashionably in his hand,dropping fiery embers, one by one. I watch him take a drag. He exhales in such a way to form a smoky silhouette. It dissipates, and he takes another drag. He stares out the window, swallowed by his own thoughts, but he doesn't appear pained. It wouldn't come as much of a surprise. Zane has always been one to think his way through life. Ever since his birthday last week, he's spent most of his time in that window box.

  "Hey Zane," I called.

"Yes dear?" He replied. He turned around and ashed his cig. His expression was calm and thoughtful. Even if he was here, he wasn't in a way.

  "How are you feeling? I haven't heard out of you in hours."

"I'm actually doing a bit better, thanks. I just need some time to sort things out,” he paused. “Mentally."

I offered him a coy smile, and he turned his attention back to the window.

"I'm heading downstairs, need anything?"

Zane kept his eyes on the window, but replied, "Sure, I'd really like a cup of tea if that isn't too much to ask."

"Of course, my love," I laughed lightheartedly, and made my way to the kitchen. I opened the cupboard and scavenged for the box of raspberry-pomegranate tea bags. Behind the honey and to the left of the peanut butter sat the treasure chest.

'Score,' I thought to myself.

I pulled one out and closed the cupboard doors. I flipped the switch that turned on the burner and placed a teakettle upon it. Whilst walking away, I stopped to look outside. What exactly was Zane looking at? The wind was blowing, the leaves were falling, and a chipmunk scurried up a tree, clearly in a rush to go nowhere. There was nothing spectacular to behold, and I grew tired of the view quickly. The kettle began to whistle. I walked over and poured the boiling water into a mug, then doused it with the tea bag.

  When I brought Zane his tea, he took it carefully and gave me a shy smile.

"Sit," He instructed.

I did as told. When Zane spoke, his voice and enunciation emitted waves of dominance, and one would not simply just listen, but to become captivated, hungry for another serving. It would one day come to my attention how he had acquired this unspoken attention entitlement, but for now it was just as much a mystery as he was.

  "Although my memories can be easily reconciled, perhaps they have become rather tedious and worthless. I can faithfully say that it is no longer in my intent to bring such a nightmarish haze above my head. You need not to worry about me, for I believe that everything is truly all uphill from here. Do you understand?"

  I took my time to absorb his declaration, and he waited patiently all throughout, occasionally sipping his tea.

‘The morphological standards of his are always captivating to the mind and spirit; they were thought provoking. I suppose it will be this way from now on. I’ll expect Zane to make promises he can’t uphold, and he’ll put on a happy face and act like things are finally looking up, when underneath it all, he’s plotting his own doom once again.’ I noted to myself silently.