Losing Lori

I still live near the coast, Lor.

My bed is still right beside the window, so I can look out every morning and see the waves, going in and out, just like my conciousness whenever I think too hard or too long about you. I stare at that empty beach and I remember the morning you disappeared, Lori.

You never did get up before me. You loved sleeping, even after lunch. Maybe that's why you were so small - you never had time to actually eat a full meal. But anyway, I woke up around nine, for no reason other than I could feel an emptiness in the bed.

It wasn't like you always stayed over, but I knew better than to think you'd just gone home early. No way would you just up and decide to leave before twelve. It wasn't you, which was why the first thing that came to mind was that you were sick. But the bathroom was empty and it smelled completely fine. No, you weren't sick.

I looked everywhere, Lori. I looked everywhere, but I never looked out the window until two hours later, when I'd called nearly all of your contacts in a hysterical fit of nervousness. I felt like an idiot when I did find you, but at least people know I cared. They still know I care.

You were lying on your back in the sand, just a teeny little dot in the distance, but I knew it was you. No one else would be wearing a small, white night shirt in the winter, would they? Of course not. It had to be you, and it was.

When I reached you, I could have sworn you were dead. I had to watch you for a while to make sure you were still breathing; you were. Your hair was wet and stiff with sea salt, plastered across your face, and your skin was turning a weird shade of white, like you hadn't eaten for a while and it was finally starting to get to you. I knew it was just because you were cold, though, so I stripped off your shirt and pulled mine over your head. No one else was out, or else I wouldn't have done it.

You didn't make a sound when I picked you up, my fingers pulling random bits of shell out of your hair and rubbing gritty sand off your skin. I didn't expect you to. I had a feeling that this was one of those moments where there was nothing to be said, mainly because you weren't even awake, but mostly because I didn't know what to say. I never did ask questions.

You slept for the rest of the day, and when you woke up, you bitched at me for not waking you up. But I didn't care.

I was just thankful you were breathing.