A/N: this is my first ever story, although I've been a huge fan of CI and this site since the beginning. I'm writing these for my own selfish, therapeutic reasons but I also hope someone else can enjoy along the way, so please let me know your thoughts. Thank you!
Of Loss
When she's a little wine-drunk her mind relaxes enough to wander.
The only time she can stand to clean her place is after she polishes off a bottle of red - Syrah, Cab, she doesn't care - and blast whatever music fits the mood that day. So tipsy cleaning she'll go, pausing to rock her hips and swing her hair whenever the lyrics speak to her wild youthful spirit. And often enough, her thoughts will wander to him. She was wiping down her bathroom mirror one Sunday not too long ago when she slowed and met her own eyes in the reflection. Older, with some crinkles etched around her eyes, but no less beautiful. I'm a catch, aren't I? She wondered. Does he think so too?
Well. Little angry tears sprung to the corners of her eyes and she set down the paper towels. She turned down the music in her earbuds and then took them out entirely. Her shoulders heaved with the sudden tearing open of emotion. The grief was overwhelming - she had wasted the last precious years of her youth pouring herself into a job that never loved her back. For what?
She'd been holding out for him, she knew. Holding a space in her life for a love she could never have. She had compared all the men she ever met to him and they always came up short. What a fool she'd been. He could never have felt the same for her.
So what to do but stem the tide of tears? She shook her head, sucked in her snotty nose, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She plugged her earbuds back in and turned to scrub the bathroom sink.