Work Text:
November 22nd; it’s a cold night, and loneliness seeps into every current of the breeze. The chill runs through my bones, and numbs my fingers as they sporadically beat on the pavement to fend off the cold. Though, here I sit, because I have a remedy in the form of two people adjacent to me. They sit with me in the stairwell, cold as all Hell, but we are cold together. When we wandered here, I wasn’t worried about the loneliness the weather brings simply because of them. The company of the two friends warmed my heart, and that was enough for me. But now, as my ramblings about the future are drowned out by their chatter about some Brian , I understand the urge to curl up by the fire in sweet solitude this time of year.
As they gush about the Brian character’s good looks, I can’t help but start to notice the distance between me and my two companions. There’s nearly a yard of space between me and them, yet it’s hard to find any space between the other two. While I’m struggling to hide my chattering teeth, they lean on each other, and not a whisper of the chill I feel seems to reach their warm, little bubble.
I ask myself how I could possibly feel cold and alone when they look so cozy. I’m a part of this group, no? Why is it that my frozen bones feel as if they’re about to shatter if I move even an inch, while my friends look as relaxed and fluid as they were in the house no more than 10 minutes ago? I wonder how they’ve yet to notice I stopped talking for almost the same amount of time.
It is now 9:53 p.m.; Mother is coming to pick me up soon. I am graced by the warm rush I receive as we walk back through the door of my friend’s house. As I am leaving, one of them hands me the pie we’d eaten earlier, tells me to take the rest of it home– He made it for the three of us especially, you know.
On the drive, I stare at the slice of pie I’ve been given as my mind replays the image of my two friends returning to the stairwell as my mom’s car rolls me away. I could hear their voices, although faint, something...something…Brian. I can’t bring myself to understand why they went back. On the walk to the car, it felt as if the temperature dropped 10 degrees lower than before. Aren’t they freezing? Who knows, maybe Brian was their remedy to keep warm as they were to me.
At my house, I stare at the pie with my foot on the pedal that opens our trash chute. My thoughts have almost gone deathly silent, trying to parse the tiny slice for an answer unknown. Do I want this pie? It’s just a slice. Did I like the taste? Or did I just like having a seat at the table? I can’t remember.
I stare a little harder, as if this slice of pie will give me the answers I’m looking for. If I throw it away, will I regret it in the morning? when my stomach is growling, and there’s no food in the fridge that’s just what I’m craving?...
…No, I’ll eat it later, I tell myself as my foot releases its pressure on the pedal and the trash chute snaps shut. I believe I quite liked that pie, and it’s placed in the fridge where it’ll still be good, come morning.