Tonight, he is still wearing the same garments; a dark wrist-length sweater that almost hid his tiny knuckles along with a light brown trousers with a certain cut; makes his legs look taller. I see his fingers are rubbing together, as if he asks me to hold them. The absence of light around us makes me unable to find what kind of shoes he is currently on. Yet, his charming figure mesmerizes me, always.
I could just run into his arms, gave him the warmth I assumed he needed; sent an apology he would not accept; landed a sweet kiss on his face and tell him I did no harm. Instead, I only able to stand where I am, stunned, as if he had cast a spell to freeze me on purpose.
And I am at a loss for words.
The first time we met, his hair was dominated by black, just like mine. His perfect nose reminds me of someone’s. And while I am observing further, his thin lips were pursing in a strange way. I am looking at his beady eyes, and he is looking back at me, wistfully.
Smiling, I am. And, he is not.
He is budged when I start to move closer. Until someone is pushing me away, separating us even further. Confused, I’m turning my head and find a girl releasing her grip on my hand. I don’t know her. She is, then, walking towards him. Her figure is not much taller than him. She is wearing the same sweater as my little boy. She is having the same hair color as my little boy.
I am perplexed, she is not.
As if I could read her mind, I sense a wave of anger; a resentment in her eyes. I look at him once again and he is looking grievously back at me. I ask and they fell silent. I say something but they are staring emptily. Afterward, I cannot remember anything besides the sting on my cheek. She slapped me as if I had committed a sin. I messed up, that is all I can say. And they left me into the darkness within.
I wake up in a place surrounded by white-and-drugs-smelled curtains.
A girl with a uniform approaches me, touches my shoulder, and asks me if I am okay. I answer her with a nod then she leaves.
Now, I remember.
I’m crying like a bereaved, rubbing my cheek with flooded tears, feeling the burning from what is left. She is mad at me, and he is mad at me. They punish me with it, by tearing my heart apart.