Halcyon Daze

I knew what I must have looked like in the crisp December air. A runaway. A cold, dead- eyed boy. There was a definite hunger about my face. My hollow cheeks spoke of my life; watching, waiting, hoping for her to stop drinking and look at me. The metal bench burned cold through my worn out jeans. The air was metal in my mouth, turned rusty by words unspoken, questions unanswered. My fingers were cold talons in my pockets, pressed up against my thighs. I ached to have music blasting in my ears, but I'd long since sold my iPod in hops to raise enough money for a place to stay.
My mind wandered back home while my feet stayed planted at the bus stop. A girl with golden hair and eyes often dulled by alcohol pushing though her veins. Tired backs under them from long nights and forgotten names, broken condoms and false alarms.
I wished I knew where she was, if she was safe.
Thoughts struck me back to months passed. A drunken phone call that lit up my bedroom as I answered, hopeful. She was crying, mumbling and slurring, but I managed to get an address. I pulled up to the house in a worried haze, and watched my messed up girl stumble down the driveway, fighting off a guy coming at her with a sloppy mouth.
I stepped out and put her in my car. She sleepily whispered what had happened while I made a decision. I made up my mind. As she slept soundly, I quickly wrote out my goodbye.
"I can't take this anymore. I can't watch you destroy yourself and slowly forget about me. I'm leaving; there's nothing for me here besides you. I can't keep loving you like this.
--Nathan"
I lifted her limp body up into my arms, pressing her warm weight against me for the last time. Her hair hung below her head, straight down. A flashing comet. I tucked her in bed, and left my note there for her.

I rattled the few coins in my pocket, and stood up so my hair brushed the stars, dimming them. Slowly, I walked to the rarely-used phone booth, studying my beat up shoes with each step. I lifted the plastic phone to my ear, grimy with stale germs, and I held the zero down. The operator buzzed something in my hear that I couldn't quite hear.

"Collect call, please." My voice was cracked, the road in front of me. Each hitch was another obstacle. The call clicked with the transfer. I prayed that she'd take it, and prayed that she wouldn't.
If she doesn't take it, I told myself, it's a sign. But still, I wanted to hear her voice, tired from the 500 mile trip through the telephone wire. The line clicked, and I crushed the phone to my ear desperately, hoping to crawl through to her.

"I'm sorry sir, the call was rejected." The operator's voice chattered. My hands dropped to my sides. Faintly, I heard a voice from the phone by my thigh. Slowly, I raised it back to my ear.

"Oh..." I said, fighting hard to keep the tears stinging behind my eyes. "Okay... I guess... bye then."

"Honey, it's gonna be all right. Have a good night." I slammed the phone into the cradle. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I felt all of my sleepless nights and all of the miles I've traveled in one foul wave. Without waiting or saying goodbye to this strange city and its too-close stars, I hopped on the bus and watched it pass by the windows.
The stars receded as the bus carried me away. I would never be the same person. I would never stop searching for whatever I was looking for, and I would never see her again. The hunger in my dead eyes would remain.