"I'm not saying that I have a bad life, but if you were to write a story with me in the lead role, it would certainly be a tragedy."
When I said that there was no way that my life could possibly get any worse, I was kidding. I didn't actually expect...
"In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day."
― F. Scott Fitzgerald.
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I jolted awake and clutched at my chest, tears blurring my vision. It was happening again.
I wiped my eyes and slipped out of bed. "Oh Brian," I whimpered, as a fresh wave of pain hit me. I paced my room, trying to get my breathing under control. If I wasn't careful, I'd make myself sick and that would only make things worse.
Before I went to bed that night I'd done what I usually did after a long day: I read our old messages. I read them until I could recite them from memory. At first I laughed... then I cried. And now I was crying because I remembered all of the plans that we had for a future that no longer existed.
I wanted to scream his name into the dark until my throat ran dry. I wanted to scream until every I love you he'd ever said to me, disintegrated into meaningless words, until I forgot his kisses and the way he'd made me feel with just one touch. But instead, I was pacing the room and crying my heart out because after everything, I still wanted him. After all the hurt, I still craved his kisses, and the thought made me want to hurl.
Dabbing at my eyes with the palm of my hands, I crept to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. I wrapped my arms around my body and ventured into the living room. After stumbling a few times, I flipped the switch, bathing the room in light.
I glanced at the clock. 4:30 am. With a sigh, I sank into the couch pulling my knees up for comfort. "Why is my sky always weeping?" I whispered.
Eventually I went back to bed, but instead of sleeping as I'd hoped, I found myself staring at the ceiling as images of my life before Brian kept me company. My life before him was dull but at least I wasn't so fucking sad. I mean, sure, I was blue because I'd just lost Jamie, but it wasn't like this. This sadness was greater than any I'd ever felt and it sucked.
I rolled over and scoffed at my bedside clock that said it was almost 6 am and soon I'd have to start prepping for work. It was the last place that I ever wanted to be.
***
"Good morning, beautiful," Jamie greeted me when I walked through the door.
"It was," I replied without looking at him. I put my bag and sweater away and made my way to the front of the bookstore.
"Oh good, you're here," Millie sighed in relief. "A new order came in last night and they need to be packed away. Those that are here," she explained, pointing to some books to her right. "They need to be put onto the bookshelves and the others, Connie will put into storage."
When I nodded and reached for a stack of books, she raised her brow. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just that you usually give me a hard time but you're just going to do as I say?"
