lonely {c. ennoshita}

page one

My Dearest Chikara,

Do you remember? When we first met, all those months ago? I do.

You were working and came by on a Thursday. It was laundry day. It was way too late for my liking, but an essay had kept me up, meaning my trip to the laundromat was heavily delayed. I was very clearly exhausted, nothing like my "usual" bubbly self.

You were flipping through a magazine behind the white glossy counter of the laundromat by my small apartment I always visit. I had never paid much attention to you, you always seemed rather bland. However for whatever reason that night, you were the most enticing thing I'd ever seen. Your brown hair was just a bit more shimmery, and your eyes looked extra inviting.

Maybe that was just a side-effect of hitting rock bottom like I had at the time. You didn't really know me, therefore I could start new with you, maybe get someone who actually cared. Oh how I missed having someone to care about me.

So, I started talking to you. Every Thursday when I came, you always seemed to be sitting behind the same glossy white counter, and I always tried to make it a point to talk to you a little more than the last time. Eventually Thursday became my favorite day of the week. I was always looking forward to seeing you, talking to you, seeing if I could just maybe muster up the courage to ask for your number.

One week, I couldn't make it because I was very badly sick, do you remember that? The following week when I came in, you greeted me first. You asked where I was last week, and the rest is history. From there, I'd come by the laundromat just to see you, talk to you, even just to sit and keep you company.

For the first time in longer than I'd like to admit, I didn't feel as lonely.