Status: Active (:
The Hollow Days
Chapter Twenty-Two
I sat in my comfy bed, hugging a pillow to my body, thinking over the phone call and repeating Elliot's words in my head. Why did he even hang up? Maybe he was just nervous. Maybe he doesn't like me at all.
What the hell am I thinking?
I sighed, rolling over, restless. There was no way I was going to sleep now. I crawled out of my warm bed, wincing at the cold emanating from my air conditioner. It wasn't summer, but it made me room feel quite comfortable when I was swarmed by my wool blankets. I tugged slippers onto my bare feet and padded out to the kitchen. Gnawing hunger pressed at my stomach, and I lazily opened the cabinet, searching for food. Nothing.
I rubbed my hand over the back of my eye and gazed around the kitchen, spotting a lone orange left on the counter. I hopped onto the counter and dug my nails in and began peeling, praying to god that this orange didn't have seeds.
I remember a long time ago when I was little, my mom had picked me up and sat me on the counter as she cooked dinner. A candle let out the sweet smell of apples, and my mom's cooking added the smell of spices. I must've been about five years old, and the kitchen seemed huge compared to me. I was going on and on about my day at kindergarten. She would listen and say "well, that's very nice." every so often.
I began talking about how this boy who sat at my table started being mean and stole my crayons or something I don't remember, and she laughed softly, the kind of laugh you do when something is cute. After she dropped pasta into the boiling pot of water, she turned to me. "Maybe he likes you," she cooed.
I had yelled out in disgust, kicking my legs against the counter. "Boys have cooties!" I cried, making her laugh even harder. She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, messing up my short, blonde hair.
"It better stay that way." she replied with a big smile.
The ringing of my phone brought me back to the present, and I quickly took it out of my pocket, forgetting completely about the orange.
It was Elliot.
What the hell am I thinking?
I sighed, rolling over, restless. There was no way I was going to sleep now. I crawled out of my warm bed, wincing at the cold emanating from my air conditioner. It wasn't summer, but it made me room feel quite comfortable when I was swarmed by my wool blankets. I tugged slippers onto my bare feet and padded out to the kitchen. Gnawing hunger pressed at my stomach, and I lazily opened the cabinet, searching for food. Nothing.
I rubbed my hand over the back of my eye and gazed around the kitchen, spotting a lone orange left on the counter. I hopped onto the counter and dug my nails in and began peeling, praying to god that this orange didn't have seeds.
I remember a long time ago when I was little, my mom had picked me up and sat me on the counter as she cooked dinner. A candle let out the sweet smell of apples, and my mom's cooking added the smell of spices. I must've been about five years old, and the kitchen seemed huge compared to me. I was going on and on about my day at kindergarten. She would listen and say "well, that's very nice." every so often.
I began talking about how this boy who sat at my table started being mean and stole my crayons or something I don't remember, and she laughed softly, the kind of laugh you do when something is cute. After she dropped pasta into the boiling pot of water, she turned to me. "Maybe he likes you," she cooed.
I had yelled out in disgust, kicking my legs against the counter. "Boys have cooties!" I cried, making her laugh even harder. She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, messing up my short, blonde hair.
"It better stay that way." she replied with a big smile.
The ringing of my phone brought me back to the present, and I quickly took it out of my pocket, forgetting completely about the orange.
It was Elliot.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry it was so short:/