Love at first line

I'm a looser

When i opened my eyes there she was, like sent by the gods, she entered the room and immediately owned it. Her beauty just naturally drew my eyes, me and everyone else in the room for that matter, and though i had yet to learn her name, there was something about her, something that spelled both danger but also excitement. But for now it might be best if i started at the beginning, in other words i have to turn back the clock to this morning.

My name is Jonas Hansen, i'm an author or rather i try my best to be one, i recently started living alone, by recently i mean three months ago, after my ex girlfriend and close to be fiance, packed her bags and left our three bedroom apartment and me. When i tried to call her i learned she had not just deleted my number she had blocked it as well. Her reasoning i never learned, all i found as an explanation was a note, it wasn't long nor was it very detailed but i recognised the hand writing and i would have recognised it everywhere. It was Lillys handwriting, the fluent motion of her penmanship was as pretty as always, in a sense you could call it art. But unlike the handwriting the words, she had left me wasn't art. It was the type of words, left by a protagonists lover in some book or movie.

"I'm leaving you. Goodbye Jonas"

Those five simple words caused me to feel a pain so severe, i ended up bursting into tears, with Lilly gone and out of my life, i had lost over seven years of my life, seven years filled with some of the best moments, one could possibly imagine. But sadly these happy thoughts had to end, and i slowly woke up to the loud ringing of my alarm clock telling me to get up, i reached for my phone and turned of the annoying alarm, before i sat up straight and realised that i had fallen a sleep once again, at my desk. The slumber screen shining in my face, reminding me once again about Lilly, my ex girlfriend. My only thought waking up, was how much i wanted this day to be over already, after all what is the point of living, when you have no motivation or ambition. I have neither, i don't even have a job, and despite me calling myself an author, i have been writing on the same chapter of the same book, which was gonna be my debut book, for the last three years. Every day i sit at my desk, day in and day out, trying to write on a book i feel nothing towards anymore. And leaving my apartment is almost a no go, if i am to leave my apartment it's mainly to get my mail, and once a month to go pay my rent. I'm a loser, as someone would call it, me being that someone. I got up from my seat and headed to my kitchen where i decided to follow my usual morning ritual, of making a cup of black coffee, with a tiny bit of milk and one tea spoon of sugar, while i was making my coffee, i looked out my window staring out at the rising sun in the horizon, watching how the sky had hit that perfect blend of orange but also a salmon pink like color. It was beautiful, very beautiful like a painting, the type of painting that when seen from one angle, gave this idea of an idyllic life style where everything was perfect but when seen from another angle or when you saw it from across the room it suddenly made you feel lonely and depressed, almost like the painters actual message with the painting, was how pointless and meaningless ones life was. But while i was standing there trapped and engrossed in my own little world, i felt a sudden vibration in my pocket, someone was calling me but who? When i pulled out my phone and checked the caller id, i read the name of the publisher that i had made a deal with, all i could think about was why they would call me, it wasn't time for another update about my book yet. Whatever the reason was for calling me, it was most likely important or it was just the typical idiot, who mistakenly called me thinking that i was another one of their authors. I reluctantly picked up my phone, putting it up to my ear as i was able to hear the sound of muffled chatter in the background and the outside noise of a busy street near downtown, i hesitated at first to be the first one to speak but after nearly fifteen seconds of silence, someone would have to speak.

"Hello it's Jonas Hansen"

I waited a bit more, hoping that now where i had initiated the conversation, the caller on the other end would finally speak up, though i quickly regretted my wish about hearing the caller's voice. It was my editor and best friend since fifth grade, Larry Hudman, he was the one who convinced me to contact the publisher he worked for, a decision i regretted but also didn't regret. I regretted wishing to hear Larry's voice because of the excitement and happiness it was filled with, i always hated the extreme optimism that Larry had in his voice, it was contagious as all hell and though he only ever meant well, i still sometimes wished that the glee in his voice and how he was always just so cheerful, would just go and die somewhere.