𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐱 | 𝟣𝟪+

|12| 𝒮𝓉ℯ𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒫ℯ𝓉𝓇ℴ𝓋 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃

1509 Browning Rd.

It didn't all start here but when I'm
here feels like it did.

it's the only place I can bring the
memories back, to remind me why
I hate him but more importantly
remind me not to go back to him.

No work has been done on the outside of
the church, more vines have grown, and
the grass is dead because of the winter.

I slowly walk up to the front door that's
been boarded up, the windows that are
broken have also been closed off.
It has the basic no trespassing sign
and shows all signs of  "Don't enter"

I'm pretty sure the back door is open.

I walk around the church, almost tripping several times. That's what I get for wearing heels. Anyways, I'm inside now;
I was wrong about them doing nothing. The interior has been cleaned out, with no pews or tables only a few small boxes in the corner.

Curiosity overtakes my body and I walk toward them, I don't want to be here for long because I have a plane to catch, but I do end up opening the boxes slowly.

It's probably drugs or trash. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨

When I first open them I see white
cloth, I pull it out and let my fingers
feel the soft satin-like material.
I notice there're little floral designs
and lace along the edges. 
Whose wedding are they planning?

Because I'm stupid and don't think things through, I pull all of the cloth out and see a small photo, like one from a Polaroid camera. The light in here is awful so I squint to read the back.

〚 𝒜𝓁ℯ𝓀𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇 - ℳ𝒶𝓇𝒸ℯ𝓁𝒾𝓃ℯ 〛

There was no date but when I flipped it over
to see the photo I didn't need one,
I realize this is when we were getting ready
for the mafia meet, the one where Gabriel made an appearance.

I remember being mad at Aleksander
so I don't know how they managed to get a photo of both of us smiling. Him and his stupid smile, even his dimples are apparent in the photo.

I look at everything, his suit, my dress, his hands, my eyes, I think of how I wish I could
see his eyes in this photo.

The thing is that I know I need to stop,
I need to sit the photo down and leave;
I need to let this whole relationship go.

But because I'm me I look further
into the box, carefully putting the
small polaroid in my pocket, even though
I should be lighting it on fire.

I find more fabric and move it very carefully, I don't want to tear anything."No way" I
whisper to myself, I pull out the dark blue velvet ring box, and just like the first time
I opened it, a ring with an oval-shaped crystal that even shines in this awful lighting.