Around me my lights glistened and sparkled all different colours, the windows burst out silver moonlight and a gentle breeze, my mp3 player sang out a song in fluent Japanese. I sang along, lightly. I sat on my stool and took a comb from my dressing table, brushed through my blonde hair and took two single strands on either side of my face. I plaited it three times and added a red bead, plaited it three times, adding a pink bead, plaiting it three times, adding a red bead, and so on. I brushed forward a chunk of hair and let it loose while I tied the rest into a ponytail held by a pink metal tube. I added a pink and red fake hair strand to the loose hair, and curled it all together. I powered my pale cheeks a light pink, applied red eyeshadow above my eyes and white below my eyes, and smoothed red lipstick across my lips. I stood up and looked in the mirror for the last time; I wore a red spotty tank top with spare sleeves, white leggings, pink ballet-flats and a ring on each finger. I grabbed my handbag and my keys and walked towards the door, switching the lights off as I went. It may sound like we own lots of money - we don't. I make my clothes and jewelery, my mp3 player was a Christmas gift, and I simply painted all the lights different colours. They're still energy efficient under all the coatings of paint, anyway. My parents were lucky enough to buy a decent house, with a small attic, a top floor and bottom floor and a basement, right by the swamp and the forest. The car purred into life and smoothly drove down south the road towards the beach. I could see a figure standing as I got closer - tall, slim, black haired, tanned skin, a handsome face. Lorenzo. Lorenzo had asked me to meet him in the place where we first met - it had to be the day. It was the most romantic place I could think of. And he was going to ask me to marry him. I stepped out into the wind. My hair flew behind me like a cape. It felt so magical. It was starting to rain slightly, but hopefully it would blow over. I didn't care anymore - even if it started cracking down lightning, I wouldn't care. Nothing could ruin this moment.
I slipped a soft pebble down the back of his shirt cheekily. He turned, and smiled. 'Ah,' he said, in his heavy American accent, 'Aliah. Congratulations on your Masters'
'Yes, thank you,' I replied hastily. 'Me and my friends celebrated last week'
'But that's not why I called you here today, Aliah,' he turned away.
I walked over to where he was turned to and faced him. 'Why did you then'
He looked at me straight in the eyes. I looked into his dark brown eyes - I could see my own amber eyes in his. 'Haley, I've had such a wonderful relationship with you'
Yes! He's going to ask! He's building it up! 'I know,' I replied, my excitement leaping around in my mind. 'But I'm not sure you're really my type. You see, you are far more clever than me, and I might be a bit old for you. So I'm saying that I'd like to break up. I'm so sorry. I thought it would last longer than this'
My heart shattered. I actually felt it - a rumbling feeling in my chest, then a painfully sharp feeling, then my whole stomach hurting. I stepped back, tears in my eyes. I was going to be sick.
'Ok,' I swallowed it down and shuddered. 'I understand'
I started to walk away. He didn't rush up and apologise, and say it's just he's tried a new drink and it's taken over him. When I was back in the car I saw that another girl was there, with curly red hair and green eyes. I wanted to warn her about him. He probably did this to all the girls. But I didn't warn her. No-one warned me. So instead I hit the accelerator and shot down the road, silently sobbing.
It was nine O'clock, and I had decided to go to sleep early. I dug underneath the covers and stayed in that exact spot for twenty minutes. I'm not a very good sleeper, I never have been, but I could understand why I couldn't even close my eyes, let alone fall asleep. Life had just been so wonderful with him. When I was with him everything was fine - a little kid had actually vomited over my shoes, and I just laughed and helped the little child up. Now I would probably spend hour after hour soaping them, fussing, and eventually throw them away. I don't know... if I ever find someone I like again, I'll make sure he is the following; incredibly smart, understands me, is nice to all women, has a polite way of speaking... and it would just be a bonus if he was creative, arty, imaginative... and it would just be a miracle if he would be good looking. I can honestly say that Lorenzo wasn't smart, didn't understand me, obviously wasn't nice to all women, didn't have a nice way of speaking (well, the accent was nice, but he spoke so commonly and cheaply) and he wasn't creative or imaginative or arty. He was just good-looking. I don't know what I saw in him. I only saw the outside, not the inside.
Well. I can't say that this isn't the first time someone has walked out of my life. My sister never even knew I existed. If I ever become a Journalist, which I hope I do, and travel around the world, I'll try and find her. It wouldn't be that hard.
Would it?