brokenblue03
He never knew that a person so simple could be so complicated. Most people knew that she had a certain depth to her, something that defined her, something you could see in her glazed eyes, in a stupor not because she was drunk or under caffeinated, but because she thought so much. But her mind wasn't as simple as her ponytail showed her to be, not even in her ripped jeans and tattered sneaks. No, she was an ocean, and he was just a puddle.
He stood alone in the crowd, staring at the ball, waiting for it to drop, all the while thinking of how it was her dream to be here. The tears that had threatened to spill since the second he first got there stinged his eyes, once again reminiscing the times he had with her, not knowing that she was slipping through his fingers, like the seconds these people spent chanting away. But unlike the rest of them, he didn't want to face a new year, that'd be an end, not a beginning. And if it were to be the latter, it would be one where she was just an ephemera, an eternal memory burned to the back of his mind.
Her anatomy was flawed. And she knew that, not because a million people weren't there to let her know that she was beautiful, but because she was unable to see past the girl who stared back at her from the mirror. She could never think of herself as more than just a sum of broken parts, of flaws, nothing but a fault in creation. But he believed it to be her battle scars, not some ugly marks left by a life of lifelessness. Maybe that's what made her feel alive, on the day that she drew her last breath.
He preferred coffee over tea. This might seem like a completely mundane thing to most people, but to those who knew the truth behind what had happened, they could fathom the concept that he didn't just change his preferences over comfort or the availability of caffeine. He started drinking excessive amounts of coffee around the same time that she spilled hers.
His sleeves were stained even now, after all these years, reminding him of what once was. Everytime he took it out, the stained coarse cloth of what once used to be his favorite shirt burned a hole through his heart, taking him back to that one time when she had spilled her coffee over it, the beginning of the end.