Chronicles of the Lost Thought:
Moonflower Pt. 1
Moonflower Pt. 1
It has been a long time since I got a deep, long sleep. It's either the nights were too short, too cold, or simply too painful to keep me from the slumber land I long to find.
Strong cold drafts enter my room tonight. A foreboding feeling that it will not be a good night to stay late. Nor early. It wasn't much of a choice. The cold winds neither - tomorrow's another working day... sheesh.
As the night draws near it's time - not it's color mind you, the warm rays of the outside sun still lights up the streets as active as a midday bazaar - my hands slowly feel the need to slowdown and begin what things I need to do in order to have a clean and fresh start tomorrow. I still have lots left to do. I'd rather do it now than jump-run-find things later when the dark creeps it cold fingers around.
I looked to my sides, closed my eyes. She wasn't here right now. I missed her usual routines. And I really hate it to think that she'll see no one here if I decided to turn to bed. My body also doesn't want to go right now. I don't know. If there were something to put ahead then it has to be right now.
I tried to stand up, leaving the embrace of my computer to continue the rituals of the night, going to the closet to arrange my clothes for tomorrow. A sense of dejavu closes on my shoulder.
It wasn't that long when she showed up and typed letters across my back over my shoulders. That night was also a cold night, quiet and very lovely. One of those nights that you wish would happen again.
But that sense was more than reminiscing. I could've known I felt something. Something more real.
Maybe it was only on my mind. I turned back to check it out. Have I felt a hug just right then? I stared long at the abandoned seat - the humming tower hushing it's song for work - the Lighthalzen desktop - the cluttered sidetable...
There was no one. Not even the ring of her bell projected to my mind. Now I'll say I really missed the girl. Her antics were more than just simple pricks to memory. Slowly I turned back and faced the thing I was going for - the closet.
I need my clothes.
But as I returned to sit in and continue to shut the PC down I saw a writing application left open. It was peculiarly strange that I don't remember opening up this app before - I don't use that kind much - too basic, not much tool, just good to see.
Looking closer at the said app, moving overlapped windows away so the entire portion of it's screen won't dare hide, I saw small texts purposely shrunken to mess with eyes. Someone has typed in a small phrase on it.
"Don't leave yet - the moonflower will bloom tonight."
