GHOSTED

8

December 28, 2020

No idea occupying my brain, I sat on my bed with an empty mind. He didn’t show up the after. And the after it. It’s been three days since we last talked, but I heard nothing about him. I had intentional walks along the road with Mary, hoping to see him on they way, but I always end up with nothing.

The last interaction we had made in Christmas lingered in my mind. I knew I never did anything that would make him get distant from me. I could still remember that uplifting expression he had  before he vanished in my sight around twelve in the midnight.

For the past three days, I kept going back under the tree, holding onto the expectations of him sitting on one of the roots. But I go back in home with a failed attempt. I wanted to ask my grandparents about him, but I had doubts so I had chosen to never bring him up.

The window in my room facing the road which I had never paid an attention to, became my nest. I stayed there sitting on a stool, my gaze pinned through it, wishing he would pass by, but he didn’t. It seemed like I had been more aware of what's inside my room, such as old bulbs, empty journals, old clothes, and customized mugs when Johnny perished out of nowhere.

My mom had asked me about my weird actions for the past days, but I neglected her thought, and just told her there's nothing to worry about. I'd stay up all night, and sleep around three in the morning wondering why he washed out in an instant without a single word from him when we were supposed to see each other the next day.

“If I had been that rude to him, then I’d say sorry if we ever meet again,” I told myself.

The Christmas lights inside my room flickered as the this pattern changed into a brighter one containing a richer tone of yellow. I pulled up the warm blanket from my feet up to my chest, wooden ceiling on my sight.