How Do I Let Go?

SWAAA!

THE rain poured and rolled in drips down the windows. It made splashing noises on the ground and spread the coerce scent of sand into my nostrils. The weather was slowly turning chilly, even as it was just July.

I could feel the nostalgia creep into my mind as I was left behind in the lonely art room. Nathan's Call Me Home softly played from my earphones into my ears.

I lightly smeared the canvas with some yellow paint from my brush to create the impression of electric light coming from the apartments in the background houses and that which the main character sat on, staring at the moon.

I dipped the brush in a bowl of color-mixed water and dried it on a white towel before dipping it into black pastel paint. The black was added to the shadow of the main character and the background buildings.

A soft breeze blew in from the only open window in the room and fell on me. I shivered.

I turned to my right and let the dimming vague memory of my last time in the art room transcend on me.

I could still figure out a grayish figure of him. He sat right next to me, acting babyish because he wanted to be with me.

I blinked. I shouldn't have. I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't figure him out anymore.

My mind slowly drifted to the last time we were in the art room.

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He stared at my painting as the sun shone through the windows on it, "You just painted this?" "Yeah." "You're really talented, you know?

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It was always sunny and bright whenever he was around. He was like that one last word of motivation that'll spark up an athlete to win the race. My major source of compliments, my major source of care. When I wasn't bothered about how I looked, he was the next thing on my mind.

I blinked. I shouldn't have. I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't even remember how he looked.

Is this how we let go of each other? How we let those happy memories we created together shrivel?

I wiped off the tear trying to escape from my eyes and dropped the paintbrush back on the stool beside me. I picked up my phone as the usual ringtone sang out.

"Hello." "Hey. The manager just asked about your whereabouts. Where are you?"

I stared at the time.

4.20 PM.

"I-I'm on my way. I lost track of time." "Well, get your ass here. I've got no other excuse if he comes back." "Alright, boss," I ended the call and dipped my phone into my black handbag.

I grabbed a black felt pen and wrote my name at the bottom-right corner of the canvas and pulled off my apron, revealing a green baggy top over a black skirt underneath.

Taking my tote bag off the shelve, I picked up my umbrella and rushed out of the art room.

{~~^~~}

I walked into the cafe to the sight of Clara handing a cup of coffee to a young woman who was in with her little son.

Clara turned to me as the woman walked out of the cafe, "Finally, bitch! I've been..," her speech trailed off as strained her eyes at me.

"What happened?" she left the post and approached me. I weaved her off, aware of the people staring at us, "I-I'll be back. Just give me a sec to change."

I ran into the backroom and wiped my face clean of the forming tears before changing into the company's dress code.

Just as I was buttoning my shirt, Adrian walked into the backroom kitchen, holding some used mugs. Even from the entrance, his eyes managed to catch hold of my pink brassiere before I could attempt to cover myself.

He turned his eyes away, "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm fucking sorry. I'll come back." "It's alright. I'm done anyway."

He looked back at me, "I'm so sorry." "There's really no issue," I laughed, joining him in the kitchen as he dropped the mugs.

I handed him his hoodie, "Thanks for the other night." He turned to me and smiled, "Anytime. How are you? Did the coffee cause anything serious?" "Physically, not really. But it did cause me something serious in life itself," I forced a laugh.

Adrian switched off the tap and focused his gaze on me, "Are you crying?"

I turned away from him and looked away instead as new tears built up.

My gaze soon matched up with his as raised my chin with his cupped index finger. He stared right into my eyes, giving me no option to look away.

"What happened?" "Nothing." "Your eyes don't say `nothing`. What happened to you?"

I sniffled, "We broke up! My boyfriend and I. H-He didn't even want to hear shit about what happened!"

The tears I tried so hard to conceal, now fell freely from my eyes, sliding onto Adrian's finger.

"Are you serious!"

Adrian and I both turned to the door to stare at Clara. She stood t the door with her arms akimbo and wasn't smiling at all.

"How could that bastard do that to you?" she ran to me and pulled me off of Adrian's grasp and into a warm hug.

She patted my back, "It's alright. It's all over. It hurts but there's nothing you can do so just let it go."

"I'll go stay outside. You two can have your girl talk." "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Are you feeling better now?" Clara asked me as soon as Adrian stepped out. "I guess," I sniffled.

She handed me a serviette to wipe my tears and pulled off her apron.

"Do you want me to get you something?" "No. Just go enjoy your break. Sorry for eating out of your time." "Nonsense. If I don't let you eat off my time, how will I eat off yours," she laughed.

"I'll be back in about five minutes. Hang in there," she walked out of the back room.

I walked into the locker room and sat on one of the chairs, staring at the walls.

The door softly creaked as Adrian walked in, "sorry. We've still got paper bags, right?" "Yeah, just check the boxes. It should be in one of them." "Thanks."

I saw him disappear as the wooden wall covered him. My mind went off again to the monochrome memories.

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She dropped the call, "Can you just believe that motherfucker?" I looked up from my assignment, "He called again?"

"Uh-huh! And he keeps repeating that he wants me back. He's used like a million- a billion numbers now! I'm so damn tired of blocking 'em. Will he just leave me, please?"

I sighed, "So, what are you going to do now?" "Am'a go to his house with a stick and pro'ly a shotgun too."

I laughed, "Samantha!" "Seriously! I hate him. I hate whatever is related to him. I just want him to stay the fuck away from me. I don't want to hear his name, I don't want to see his face, I don't even want to perceive his stupid scent," she stormed off and I could hear her door bang shut afterward.

I sighed.

Damn.

Not so long after knocking at the door, Thomas pulled it open. On realizing I was the one standing before him, he put on a smile, "Oh, hey. Come on in."

I walked into the well-furnished house and he led me to his room. I slopped on the red bean bag that laid on the rug beside his beg and stretched out.

"What goes on?" he plopped on the bed. I sighed, "You know, the normal. Just project shit and more stressful stuff. Plus, can you tell your brother to quit calling my sister with numerous numbers? 'Cause nowadays, my sister keeps ranting more about how she hates everything about him. At this rate, I don't think we'll ever be able to tell her that we like each other." "So, we are never going to date?"

I stared into his eyes, noticing how they lost their glow at my words. I bit my lip as he looked deep into my eyes.

"I'll find a way, I swear." "Must she really give consent before we can date? It's not like we're getting married- at least for now."

I laughed.

How are you so sure we're going to get married?

"She actually does have to give her consent. I don't want to keep things away from her and I definitely don't want to do anything that'll hurt her or make her feel betrayed. I don't know, sister stuff."

He sighed and fell back on the bed, "I guess I'll wait. I mean, valuable things aren't easy to get, right?"

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