I wake up and look over and the space she filled is empty. The pillow is cold, my arm isn’t numb and I can’t smell the lemon vanilla scent she always wore. Evelina is no longer here. Not physically, not spiritually, she’s gone and I’m left behind. The distant echo of Beethoven’s fifth reminds me I need to get up and get ready, that work and life are waiting. But what if I looked for her? What if I followed in her path, hoping to stumble across her smile? What if I ended up in her arms and she never let go? My eyes close and for a moment I imagine our reunion, touching her lips, her face, nuzzling her neck, finally feeling like I’ve come home. Staying buried deep within her and never letting go. I squeeze my eyes tighter but her image dissipates and rage rolls underneath the surface of my skin. I’ve forgotten how soft her skin was and the exact number of freckles on her shoulders. I’ve forgotten the feel of her nails on my skin. I’ve forgotten the sway of her hips when she walks in front of me. We didn’t deserve this. We were robbed. It shouldn’t have been her. Anyone else but her.

©Esther Moreira

Support InstaWriters August Prompts hosted by @journee_nicole and @t.alva

Chasing Eve by @tina_m_courtney


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