Lost without You

Your laugh fills the room.
It takes over every molecule of space and warms it up.
And it warms me up so much.
And I just have to laugh with you.
Because you make everything so tolerable.

There are few things in this world that I will fully understand.
Some of these include a mans love of sports, the way girls have to hate each other to love themselves, and the extension of human compassion.

And so I'm staring at the pack of tissues on the table with confusion. Tears are still flowing freely from my eyes, little hiccups emitting from my throat, and frequent sniffs. I do this for such a dramatic and awkward pause that the chocolate eyed tissue boy has to ask again.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Finally my brain starts to work again and I'm ready to answer. But my vocal chords aren't really in compliance to my brain and I choke.

"Yeah."

I get this out in a whisper of a voice as I reach for the tissues hoping maybe that might help the tears stop.

"Are you sure?"

Being that my brain has jumped on board I can nod, trying to pull some of the tissues from the small plastic pack. Which is harder then it seems.

He gently snatches the troublesome pack from my hands, which I now notice are shaking, and pulls two gracefully from within the thin plastic chokehold, handing them to me in one fluid motion.

"Thanks." I manage to mumble, still sniffing.

He hesitantly pulls the empty chair from next to me and sits down propping elbows onto his knees as he leans forward.

"What's up?"

I want to scream because I don't want to talk.
I don't want to be sitting here crying a flood of tears in front of some strange boy.
I don't want to be in the middle of a library trying to come up with some reason why I'm crying.
I don't want to have to cover up the fact that you're gone.
I don't want to have to admit that you're gone.

And, again, I'm staring blankly. This time right into the eyes of the boy.

"Nothing."

I finish wiping my face, tears still leaking, but I put on a smile and stand up.

"Thanks for the tissue. Later."

I gather my books and practically run to the library counter. I'm almost all the way checked out when I realize that I don't have my library card. It's in my backpack that's still hanging on my chair.

Next to him.

And I wonder how much I'm loosing if I just leave without it. But I don't want to have to pay for my school books.

All the way back to the table I'm cursing at myself, wiping tears, and fiddling with a string that's hanging from my shirt.

And I become more annoyed when I notice that the chocolate eyed boy is smiling his lopsided smile at the fact that I forgot something as essential as my backpack. He's so genuine about his amusement that it seems so innocent. And it kills me that I want to forgive him.

This time, as I'm heading for the desk to deliver my library card, he follows me.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

He's so sweet and concerned and I'm so upset.
Upset because this isn't the sweet and concerned person that I want to be asking me how I am.
Because this boy is missing the stunning blue eyes and perfect smile.
And a sob comes out dry in my throat.

I load my books into my bag and run, literally, out of the building and onto the sidewalk. I'm running so that I don't have to see him and deal with his questions because, honestly, I'm not okay.
Honestly I want to be in the ocean collecting every piece of you that's scattered into the surf, assembling you ash by ash so that you can come back to me and hold me.

And that's when I collapse onto the sidewalk right out front of the too green house. Right in front of the elderly couple walking their yapping schnauzer. Right in front of a bicycle that veers to dodge me.

And I'm sobbing so hard that I can't see straight. Everything is blurry and quiet and cold and hard to deal with.
Everything is so empty.