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Routine

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Her hair touched the ground, swept it; as though it was nothing but a soft midnight broom, trying to erase the memories that had been spewn upon it. It was the eight hundredth night she had found herself in this position; poised above the dewy grass, kneeling as though praying to god. But it was no saint-like situation. She had vomited. The acid taste clung to her mouth like a baby who doesn’t want to leave her mother. She hated it. She hated the taste. She hated the routine. But it was one she had become so accustomed to. Although eight hundred times does seem to over exaggerate the situation; it is an over exaggeration that was not made falsely. Her hair was thin, brown, and straw like. Her coal eyes were bloodshot and her nose was running with a viscous liquid that was most likely a mix between alcohol, vomit and snot.

“Cory.” Blake was calling from the porch. The light above him made him look taller then what he was, and a menace to the small adolescent girl on the ground. “Are you alright?”

Cory didn’t move. She merely vomited a second time, answering his question.

He wrinkled his nose and looked behind him into the laughing and dancing crowd through the door. For a few split seconds, he contemplated leaving his 17 year old girlfriend withering on the ground and going back inside but he was more decent then most 18 year old boys. And he was a boy. Most 18 year old males are.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as the cold air bit at his bare arms. His t-shirt was baggy and drafts of the night breeze found their way around his protective coating.

“Babe, don’t you know your limit yet?”

Cory didn’t respond. She could feel the humiliation start to grow again. It made its way into her stomach, cramping it more so then what the sudden emptiness did to it. It started up her spine and into her face. It turned a slight pink due to the blushing of the cheeks. At least it’s better than the pasty white the vomit had left her with.

“Cory.”

She looked up this time; into his eyes. It was too dark to tell, but they were a magnificent blue. Sparkling, the way the ocean does right before the sun sets. She felt a feeling she knew all too well: a shame in her heart.

He smiled, weakly, but a smile nonetheless. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Scoop me up and throw me into the nearest dumpster.”

He grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. She stumbled – once, twice, three times – then collapsed into his arms, “Although, I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

He smiled, “I don’t know about that. You smell like garbage.”

She almost started to cry. She bit her cheek and held it in instead. “Shut up.”

He laughed and started back to the house with her in his arms. She walked beside him silently, grateful for his love and help. For however long she would have it. She was grateful.

As they walked through the crowded party, hardly anyone turned a head. Only one was noticeable enough by Cory. It was a girl, with soft brown hair. Her face was pulled into a worried frown, and pain shot through Cory’s heart. It was Blake’s lab partner, Cassie. And she was beautiful. Cory started crying then, and yelling.

“You cheating bastard, why would you do this to me! You told me you loved me!”

But Blake didn’t falter in his step, nor did he notice the girl with the soft brown hair. He just felt a sudden exhaustion in his heart. He loved the girl in his arms, screaming and hitting him. It was a love stronger than anything he had ever felt before, but this routine was tiring him as well.

Finally Cory quieted after realizing the added humiliation she was causing to herself. And she felt sad, and miserable, and so much in love with the boy beside her. They walked onto the front lawn, holding each other, and both feeling utterly tired.



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