I tried so hard to get her out of my system. I tried to get as far away from home as possible and start fresh where nobody would know me, but life is a cruel bitch and I’m not the only one who wanted to start over. She seemed quite pleased by this, said that she was finding moving so far a bit scary and she was glad there was a familiar face.
She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, singing terribly, only stopping to giggle at her own wailing; my hands are shaking, trying to unwrap the stupid stock cube. I end up chucking it in so awkwardly that boiling water splashes onto my hand, it scalds me, I wince. She stops singing and jumps off the counter, her eyes widen, she brings my burnt hand to her mouth and kisses it. Her lips are as soft as I’d always imagined.
I pull my hand away and turn back to the pasta, finding myself leaning back against the counter she was sitting on, my knuckles white from having to clutch it so unexpectedly. Her arms have snaked around my waist and she’s looking directly into my eyes with an expression I don’t recognise. Her lips are as soft as I’d always imagined.