Torn Tears

Near or Far

Waking up without Lucas for the first time is numbing. Or I'm trying to be numb. I don't want to feel pain. 

I slept in Lucas's bed because I'm that desperate. I discovered that he left me a letter. Or rather, a song. Our song. My favorite song. The End of All Things.

Whether near or far

I am always yours.

Any change in time

We are young again.

Lay us down.

We're in love.

Lay us down.

We're in love.

In these coming years

Many things will change

But the way I feel

Will remain the same.

Lay us down.

We're in love.

Lay us down,

We're in love.

I weep. The lyrics have never resonated with me so deeply as they do now.

I pull myself together because I have to. I wash my face and shower. I use Lucas's soap. I eat his disgusting strawberry Poptarts for breakfast. I drive his car to my first day at work.

I did the paperwork last night when I couldn't sleep. A note towards the end of the packet informed me that I needed to dress in business casual attire, preferably a skirt and blouse or a dress. I put on a black, pleated knee length circle skirt and paired it with multicolored floral shirt. I wear simple flats. I look nice.

I hate it. I hate having to dress appealingly for the people who separated Lucas and I. I hate them all.

I arrive at city hall with no trouble. I walk through the imposing front doors and slap my paperwork on Elliot's desk fifteen minutes before I'm supposed to be here.

"Punctual, Miss Clearwater." He looks me over and I mask a scowl with a smile. "I see you noticed the fine print on work apparel. Very nice."

"Good morning." I say shortly.

"Nervous?" He smiles brightly.

Let him take my terseness for nervousness. I have no trouble sparing my words. I nod and offer a weak smile to accentuate his point.

Elliot comes around to meet me from behind his desk. I notice more of his features this time. He's built slightly taller and stockier than Lucas is. His dark brown hair is cut professionally and plastered to his head with more hairspray than I use in a week. His jawline is sharp enough to slice through a loaf of bread. The youthfulness of his eyes startles me. They're a bright, clear blue. They could be piercing if he tried, but for the moment they're conveying friendliness. He can't be older than twenty-one.

He touches my arm at the elbow, guiding me. I do my best not to stiffen against his touch. I hate him and everyone in this building. "Your desk is the first one in the hall." He smiles and starts to blush slightly. "We'll actually be working quite closely." He opens the door to my office.

"How so?" I do my best to feign interest and pray he casts any lack of conviction to my supposed nervousness.

"You see," Elliot flicks the light switch on. "That wall is the back of my work space. We'll be working on the same projects until you get trained well enough to efficiently place you somewhere more fitting."