The Sticky Note Chronicles

Strange: (adj.) Out of the ordinary; unusual or striking.

This was the word that popped into Mel’s head; it was pretty much the only word that could be used to describe that situation accurately.
A disheveled redhead had just thrown open the door to her room, where she had previous laid unconscious on her bed, but was rather violently startled awake.
She stared at the woman, her eyes widened significantly.
“Uhm… Hello?” She offered hesitantly.
Norah wobbled, her eyes shakily going to all corners of the green room, studying all the objects lining the walls and floor.
A stack of books and magazines, followed by painted canvases leaning against her black dresser, obscure objects covering the top with a thin layer of dust sprinkled atop them. A cage was inhabited by two white rats with beady red eyes that watched this unfamiliar woman with peaked interest. Beads and clothe were pinned to the ceiling, the jewels hanging on the beads casting colours across the room in strings of light.
The Irish woman’s eyes rested on the brunette who lay strung out upon the bed. “Mel,” She breathed out, and unusual amount of effort in her voice as she strained against the doorway. “I wanted to… meet you,” A lazy grin upon her face.
Mel bolted upright and across the room, catching the redhead before she crashed into the ground. Her knees had buckled, causing her weight to move downward as gravity usually ensues.
“Whoa, whoa, Norah, c’mon.” She said, heaving the girl upwards with extreme effort. Her arms around the girl’s middle, her head against the brunette’s shoulder. Groaning with effort, hoisting the girl upon her own bed. Her breaths came out in little gasps – she was definitely not fit enough to do that.
“Norah, wake up.” She whispered, shaking the girl momentarily.
Her hand went over the woman’s pale, freckled forehead. Mel could practically hear her skin hiss at the heat of her forehead.
“Oh dear god,” she whispered. “You’re burning up, aren’t you?” She muttered to the unconscious woman. Norah stirred momentarily, turning her head over and snuggling into the bed more. The brunette drew the blue covers over the girl and tucked her in, going off to make some soup and find Nyquil.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“You’re probably the most confusing person I’ve ever met,” Her voice was soft as she spoke to the woman peacefully slumbering on her bed. “I mean really, you don’t return my notes for days, and then you stumble into my room with the flu and collapse on me!” She didn’t even really know why she was talking. The girl probably couldn’t hear her.
Or at least she wouldn’t really remember her talking whenever she woke up.
Which come to think of it, was becoming worrisome.
The redhead had stirred for a bit about an hour ago, and eaten some soup before falling back unconscious.
“And what the hell happened to you anyways, you look like you got run over by a freight train.” She was referring to the woman’s fevered state, her completely disheveled appearance.
“Did you try to go to class like this?” Her voice was softer now, her hand moving forward tentatively to brush the curly hair away from the girl’s face. “You’re an idiot,” Even softer, something in her eyes as they lowered. The girl’s forehead was dotted with a small amount of perspiration as her body tried to fight off the contagious disease. “Last day school’s open at least,” She muttered. It was true, a week before Christmas. All classes were required to halt, the only reason the girl probably went out was because she needed to talk to one of the professors, who promised to have been there today.
A small sigh, she continued to run her fingers through the curly red locks, detangling the hair a bit in an odd attempt to comfort the young woman.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Reading these words, her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.
Girlfriend?
The gasp moving past her lips, tweaking upwards to curve into the strangest sort of grin.
One that she couldn’t help, nor understand. A short tremor went through the redhead’s hand as she held the blue sticky note delicately.
“She’s… gay?” What was with that smile?
Green eyes turning to look hurriedly at the closed door across the purple room – she was in there now, wasn’t she? Just a few feet away. Was she asleep? Or lying awake? Could she hear her?
What did she look like? Did she have brown hair? Or purple hair? Or maybe she had died it a different colour.
Does she wear glasses? Have tattoos? Does she have any scars? Are her teeth crooked?
Curiosity was horrid in her system. The itching urges to go and throw open the woman’s door, invade the room, to talk to her, to know her…
She stopped the thoughts before they continued. This was ridiculous.
Without a response, she went to her room, and collapsed on her bed.
The redhead was so tired. Only a few more days until classes finished. Just a few more days to survive. Then it was Christmas break. The tree was set up in the corner of the living room, the green a beautiful accentuation to the dark purple of the room. The red of the ornaments in gorgeous contrast.

She didn’t answer the woman’s sticky note for a few more days. The reason being… she really didn’t have anything to say in response.
Thanks for giving me an unexplainable happiness at the mention of your sexuality. – Oh yeah, that would go over well.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The coldness of the air around her was barely present to the ill-dressed woman. The redhead grinned at the heavens as white flecks fell from grey clouds and splattered over the concrete of the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.
She had left her jacket upstairs, wearing only a long-sleeved fuchsia shirt. A green hat pulled over curly mass of red hair.
The Irish woman didn’t even really seem to notice the cold as she spun around in the falling flakes of snow, letting out sounds of joy.
Nevermind the huge chance of sickness there was – it was snowing!