Hold my Hand and Never Let Go
Mitchie Torres yearned for the return of his warmth. She missed the feeling that contained the realization of how they gently tangled with each other in a firm embrace. She certainly missed how their fingers would entwine. Their palms would brush against each other, and that was all she wanted. She remembered the gentle, smooth texture of his hand when she would hold his hand.
She longed to feel that warmth once again.
It would not matter how long he would be gone, since every time she would touch him, it seemed she would fall head over heels once again. When her inviting hand slips into his, a smile graces her lips. She does not know why, but she smiles anyways.
His voice would set her heart aflutter, and would bring back something she lost.
Tears began pooling upon her auburn orbs, and she didn't hesitate when they spilled over. Her tears trailed down her rosy cheeks continuously and refused to stop.
She would never be the same without him.
The world didn't care who lived and died, people merely moved on, except Mitchie.
Mitchie longed for him to come back, even if it was an impossible belief.
No matter wherever she looked, he was not there.
She never wanted to let go of him.
She never did.
He was never going to be with her anymore.
She wanted him to be with her again.
If only he could.
If only.