Memories and Sunsets

I watched the crashing waves and the beautiful sunset. I toyed with the white sand as I patiently waited. Until now, I was hoping her memory would come back. The memory when we fell hard. The memory of endless happiness. The memory of our marriage. Anything, just anything as long as it would be the memory of us.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood up. I sensed a presence nearby. I was afraid to turn around because I might get disappointed. I closed my eyes and clasped my hands in front of me while whispering a silent prayer.

I felt someone sit beside me. My heart was running fast and my body felt warm. The person cleared his throat.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and turned around. God, I missed her. I missed those wavy black hair, those sexy and plump pink lips, those warm brown eyes, those long eyelashes and those damn perfect dimples. And I wouldn’t forget that smile that could warm the coldest part of you.

I gave her a tentative smile. I was scared she might say no to everything. I was damn doing my best to have her back but she wouldn’t. Because she wouldn’t remember me. And that sucked, like hell.

“Sunset. Gorgeous sunset. You know, there’s this guy who told me I loved sunsets. Well, I didn’t believe him at first. But now, I guess not everything’s too late. I can still open myself for possibilities, right?” She looked at me and I caught her smiling eyes.

This time, I gave her a full smile. I didn’t know what will happen after but I was willing to take this step-by-step. And I knew in that moment, it was a start.

THE END

let me hold your words before you leave;

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: