Floating to the top. Dancing. Swirling all around and popping. Clustered together, like a little family, all struggling to stay warm. Three of them, all snuggled in the corner. I watched them, my eyes sagging. The two on the end were small - they were so close, they were almost one. Another stayed away, larger, more eager looking. It slowly floated to the pair, inching closer and closer. The two sailed off, around and around, chasing each other, until finally, the big bubble caved. Pop! I couldn’t hear it, but I knew what it would sound like. The two bubbles soon morphed into one. Large, just like the other one. Soon, it too popped.
I couldn’t help but sigh. Slowly, I lifted my cup and drank. Sprite. Fizzy and bubbly. I’m…show more content… I knew I had to. I’d seen it in movies all the time. But this time, it was so different. She was so different.
Slowly, I turned. My vision was blurred. Faces were hazy. Outlines. Colors. Basic shapes. Specifics were gone. I could barely read. Maybe that was a good thing. Still, it took me no time to spot them.
Talking. It was fine, I guess. Better than before. She leaned against the wall, drink in hand. Some kind of cocktail, but I could barely tell. I slowly reached for my glasses, but stopped myself. I just didn’t want to know. Why would I? She wore a black dress, I could tell. I’d seen her wear it before. I’d seen her wear a lot of things - that dress was my favorite. She always wore black on Tuesdays and red on Wednesdays. White on Thursdays. Purple on Fridays. Pink on Saturdays. Blue on Sundays. And whatever she wanted on Mondays. Always something different on a Monday. I came here whenever I could; she was here all the time. She worked here, actually. At a bar, yeah, but she was so smart. College. She went. Made it look easy. I did too. Geeky crap. Not a big deal. But she was such a big deal. Everything she did was so important, like they could write a news story just about her smile. A book about her laugh. A national news event on just the way she breathed. I’d seen her every day - off right now, no work on Tuesdays - and I’d say the same thing every time I saw her. A melancholy grumble. “Sprite.” And just like that, she’d give it to me. Her white