long walks | Teen Ink

long walks

December 15, 2015
By smoothjazzmusic SILVER, New Buffalo, Michigan
smoothjazzmusic SILVER, New Buffalo, Michigan
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Sometimes I think,
I need a spare heart to feel
all the things I feel.”
― Sanober Khan


We walked down the street. The town was still, all you could hear was the patter of shoe bottoms hitting the sidewalk.
It was sunny, but it was cool. I gripped the sides of my coffee cup with both hands, and walked closer to him to block the wind. He put his jacket around my shoulders.
We were approaching the corner where we usually departed. It was directly halfway between our two houses. We had spent a lot of time on that corner. It was where we first met. It was where we watched the stars together, and it was where we drew together.
It was also where we had broken up. I had said to him, “I don’t want to, but I need to.” And I ended the best thing I had ever had.
Today, we stood on the corner and I stared into the eyes that had kept me holding on to the world. They were different now. Duller, they seemed empty. I remembered them shimmering, and lightning up when he talked about his passions.
His smile was different now too. It was bigger then. I guess it shrunk as the light in his eyes went out.
I asked him to sit with me.
I asked him to relive all of our past with me, right then. I asked him to talk about his passions again.
And he did. He sat, and he spoke of his art and of his schoolwork. His eyes became brighter, and then he looked at me and I watched them fade again.
I asked him why this happened. He said that I was his one true passion. He said that if it wasn’t for me, he never would have found his love for art or reading. He never would have found his love for himself.
He said that when I had left he was not sure what to pursue. He found himself wondering around, and sketching me wherever he could. He found himself looking for something else to brighten his eyes but it was not working.
He asked me about my passions. He asked me to explain. I spoke of theatre. I spoke of writing and math, and of music and composition. I spoke of him.
He asked me why my smile faded as I said his name. I told him that the Sparks I felt with him were the reason that I smiled. I told him that the shimmer in his eyes were what gave me butterflies, and that the words he would whisper in my ear stayed with me forever. i told them that when I left, I had felt like I had left a piece of me as well.
He smiled, pleased with my answer. We continued to sit on the corner. I stared at the grass, watching it grow. He stared at me, with the some contentment as he had before.
He told me he was glad I had called him to talk, he told me he had missed me. I smiled and said I had missed him too.
It had gotten dark at this point. I laid back to watch the stars, and he lay next to me. I looked over at him, and I noticed another twinkle in his eye. I noticed my smile had not faded.



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