A Comforting Embrace.

I went there. I didn’t want to go but I still did. That same building, that same floor. My feet carried me to the same room on their own. There were people there, of course there would be. Why wouldn’t be there? It’s a busy building, people work there, if you can consider watching movies on their cell phones as work. Still, among all these strange faces, and some familiar ones, I saw that one chair. The one that was empty.

It was as if they were honoring your absence, or. . . on a lesser chance, giving me the place that I so desperately wanted to be in. As if space were warping upon itself, I found myself ten feet from that chair, then eight, then five, and finally close enough that my fingertips could touch it. And they did.

“That machine doesn’t work,” someone said from behind me, “try in some other classroom.”

“It’s alright, I’m here to do what you all are doing anyways.” I heard my voice speaking with a smile. Although I didn’t feel my head turning to address the guy who had spoken to me. A few giggles floated around, as they should on such a curt, sarcastic response.

I sat there, on that black office chair, laid my hands first on the armrest, and then on the desk. My hands folded upon themselves, like two vines entwine as they grow upon each other. Before I knew it, my head was upon my arms, like we used to do in our classrooms while sleeping during lectures.

A “short” nap later, when I woke up, everyone had left, and I was there, alone. Wrapped in that still-sleepy trance, and the quiet ambiance of the room, a strange thing happened to me. I felt relaxed. The white numbers on my phone told me that the “short” nap was in fact a little more than two hours. Yet, to me, it took away the stiffness of the last two nights of insomnia.

Your memory today is, 
A comforting embrace.

It doesn't excite me,
Doesn't make me miss you
And feel sad.
It doesn't put hope in me
Of the day we'll meet again.
It doesn't throw in regret,
For not having enough.
It doesn't enrage me,
For going off track,
In the worst way possible.

It's just that,
A comforting embrace.
The softest pillow,
The perfectly warm blanket.
It's the sweetest lullaby,
Written by wizards,
And sung by the fairies.

2 Replies to “A Comforting Embrace.”

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