Just a little shot to the heart, when she would walk into the room and cross over to his chair. When she would sink onto his lap, which was always ready for her. His knees apart so hers could rest between them. Sitting with her arm around his neck and playing with his hair. Taking off his sunglasses and putting them on herself. She would mock him, an overacted frown on her lips.
"I'm Steven! The world sucks and I hate everyone!" She would say. And then he would put his hand on her cheek and bring her face closer to his so he could whisper in his ear. Probably telling her that he doesn't hate everyone, that he loves her. Her blush could be seen from the couch and she whispers a reply. Telling him all these things right back. She said those things to you but she was young and she didn't mean it. And you let her go. Now her waist is claimed by his hand and her legs are claimed by his legs and her hair and her cute little nose and her eyes and her laugh and her kisses are all claimed by him. You pray that he knows what he has.
Because that's when it hurts the most. You can only see what you have until you don't have it anymore and it's sitting on someone else's lap. She's sitting on someone else's lap. She used to sit on yours and you could bury your face into her neck and smell the coconut shampoo that she used in her hair and the jasmine perfume that she spritzed on every morning. You used to rush her as she got ready, leaning on her door frame. "Hurry up Jackie, we don't have all day." Now all you want is to be there, watching her put on lipstick and blush. Watching her put up her hair. Now he's watching her. It isn't fair. Life isn't fair is it? But he deserves it, you think sometimes. He's had so many bad things in his life, let him have this good one. Let him have this beautiful thing that you wake up thinking about. For a few wonderful seconds you believe that she's still yours and that she'll walk in and you will open your arms and she will sit on your knee and you can have your arm around her waist, claiming her. But a few seconds go so quickly and, as cliche as it sounds, reality hits you. The reality is that you will never be able to smell jasmine or coconut without feeling the ghost of the girl you love sitting on your lap. The reality is a constant knot in your stomach when you watch them kiss. Her hands are little and delicate, like birds and they are dwarfed by his as he holds them. Life isn't fair.