For Kay Cannon
Title: Heart
Note: Wrote this the morning we left La Push and I was feeling Bella. Ending of Eclipse kind of timeline.
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I try not to run as I head for my car. The sweet tang in the air greets my nostrils and seems to be purposefully mocking me because nothing could be more contradictory right now.
Something at the very core of me stubbornly wants it all to match: the tears streaming unapologetically down my face beg for rain instead of the smattering of sunlight that is glinting off them; the bile taste filling my mouth wants to be met with metal and brine but is met with fresh familiarity.
And I hate it, because nothing should feel familiar right now when I have never felt more alien in my own body.
I climb into my truck and turn the key, and as the suddenly annoying green leaves start to blur in my peripheral vision, I weep, because I'm leaving a throbbing chunk of my heart in La Push.