Waiting

right sooo i have never posted anything, but i was cleaning up the files on my computer and found this, and upon the advice of a lovely redhead i am putting it up.. i think i wrote it about a year back? maybe a bit more? i don't recall, but not like that's really of any importance anyways. anywho, here we go.

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You said you’d be here. It’s a possibility, but I can’t help but treat it as certainty. My cheeks are bright with colour, and I hope I look all right as I smooth down my favourite shirt for the twelfth time. It's green and has black designs around the sleeves and hem, the one you said you liked the last time I saw you.

Every time I catch a glimpse of a midnight blue coat, I can’t breathe. My heart jumps into my throat, and gets stuck there as my oesophagus contracts around it in a spastic hope. It’s never you though. I force myself to swallow the vital organ and command it to resume its beating.

I am constantly seeing mirages of your hair, your eyes, your form. You turn to look at me and morph into strangers as I apologize for the misunderstanding. Then you’re walking away again, even though you never came. Everywhere and nowhere, all at once, like fairy lights.

While I’m waiting, loud noises fade as the quiet ones resound clearly in my ears; a moving photograph where the focus is on the background and the rest is blurry and distorted. The roar of the glistening trains below is just wind, not noticeable had it not blown a lock of hair into my eyes. The cool, authoritative lady talking out of the speakers only shyly whispers in a language I don’t comprehend anymore. I always wonder if someone is talking into a microphone, or if it’s a new computer that shunted aside another job. Just as I think I hear a fluctuation, a tiny warble in the calm voice, it’s gone and still a mystery. Soon I don’t care anymore, because the clock 50 metres away is ticking and echoing through my head, telling me you’ll be arriving any time now. Once again, I run my hands over the length of green, and pull the sleeve hem farther over my wrists so it doesn’t look dorky as air rushes up from platform eight.
My sharp eyes watch intently as passengers spill out of the doors of the huge white train. A few doppelgangers almost fool me, but I’m getting better. You’re not there (yet, I tell myself). I sit back down on the plastic chair in the station café, disappointed. It’s a strange almost orangey mustard colour, and my coffee now tastes like dishwater. I drink it anyways.

Still, the clock persists in telling me that you’ll be here. I don’t fully believe it anymore, even though I want to.

Tick-tock-tick-tock
Get-ting-clo-ser

To my left, and a little behind, I hear a shuffling click, like someone working at a typewriter at an abnormally efficient pace. The typewriter noise is from an old announcement board that no one’s cared to replace with the newer screens that shows everything in fancy, glowing green. This one is big and black, but all made up of small flaps, an individual one for each letter and number, making up destinations, times, and platforms. If you look closely, you can catch each letter of the alphabet going through, being tested and discarded in a millisecond, until the proper one is found. Words gradually flesh out and complete themselves, children playing hangman at lightning speed.

Whenever something changes, the neat row of altered words rustles and clicks. Typewriter leaves, I think.

The notice board agrees with the clock, so I keep waiting. I would have anyways, I realize. The timepiece sounds annoyed now.

Tick-tock-tick-tock
I-told-you-so

To pass the time I pick imaginary lint off my sweater, and bite into the fluffy, golden brown, sugar sprinkled, chocolate filled croissant I bought while I listen to the snappy clack of high heels on the floor, and the rolling ca-chunk of the wheeled suitcases getting dragged and pulled along behind.

The next train you could be on comes and goes, tangling up my hair more than it already is.

I nibble on my croissant, anxious. The pastry feels like cardboard and hardened glue in my mouth. It sticks as I try to force it down and turns my tongue chalky, so I swig back some more coffee to help. It doesn’t, so I throw everything into the bin, opting for some peppermint gum instead. Only afterwards do I realize that the food had cost me around three times as much as it should have, and that I had planned to eat it all regardless of how it tasted, to get my money's worth.

The clock is still loud, and I count the seconds until the next possibility of you arrives. The gum’s already lost its flavour at exactly a minute and a half. I swallow it so that I don’t need to get up. I feel too nervous, for some reason. As the time ticks even closer, I smooth my shirt, run my fingers through my hair, and shift my feet; they’re getting numb. I hear a tiny Velcro ripping noise, and realize it’s actually the sole of my shoe separating from the floor. It’s sticky, probably with ancient soft drink and grease spills no one ever bothers to clean properly.

Seconds before your final train comes in, the clock swells, grows and becomes deafening. It burns my eyes, and I can’t look at it anymore. Instead I direct my attentions to the track in platform 8. The sun reflects off them, and blinds me, too.

When it finally appears, I know you’re on it; you have to be.

The more I try to convince myself, the more I know it’s not true.

Typewriter leaves rustle at me gently, catching my attention. Its time for me to go, but you’re not here. We were supposed to glide off in that glistening modern machine, together.

I know you’re not coming, but every time I think it, it makes me doubt.

Regardless, I start moving towards the glowing plastic nine, Velcro-cola ripping with my steps, in rhythm with the clock.

As much as I’d like to, I can’t wait forever, not even for you.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDD:

WHOOAAA.

I don't know what to comment on first.... >.> The fact that you ZOMGWTF actually posted something, or the fact that ZOMGWTF you actually do write and it's GOOD?

hehe, thanks?
lol i like how you expected it to be completely awful. um. so what do you think? other than 'good'

This was really, really fantastic. I love your attention to detail, and how you make even the smallest things beautiful. I also loved the ending. You have a show-and-tell policy, meaning you didn't say "I was waiting and the clock said three-fifteen and I'm waiting for my long-distance boyfriend, and this is our entire past, and this is what he looks like in minute detail," which I appreciated. That also lets my mind fill in the blanks, which is fantastic. All in all, your style is magically delicious and you should post more, little lady.

P.S. Who is this? Flo?

squeee thank you <3 so glad you liked it.
and yes, it's flo

well duh. there's gonna be something other than good. but please, let me first get over the fact that you ACTUALLY POSTED SOMETHING. 'cause that's like, NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.
does that mean others can expect some crit/comments from you too, since you actually visit the forum?

FIRST OFF:
- heh. i like how it's non-gender-specific. also forced second person. i've only met about like... four people ever who write with second person. me being one of them. >.>

NOW FOR ACTUAL CRIT:
- this sentence seems a little wierd, structurally. (the red part being the problem i think)
Its green and has black designs around the sleeves and hem you said you liked the last time I saw you.
- any reason for the color choice of a midnight blue coat?
- this part made me 0.0 cause it was really good.
You turn to look at me and morph into strangers as I apologize for the misunderstanding. Then you’re walking away again, even though you never came. Everywhere and nowhere, all at once, like fairy lights.
- this is sooo you
I always wonder if someone is talking into a microphone, or if it’s a new computer that shunted aside another job.
- love this too
Words gradually flesh out and complete themselves, children playing hangman at lightning speed.
- TYPO ALERT: Only afterwards do I realize that the food had cost me around three times as much as it should have, and that I had planned to eat it all regardless of how it tasted, to get my moneys worth.
- i really like the powerful ending -- not so much as jarring powerful but like, emotionally so, the disappointment was very striking.

Regardless, I start moving towards the glowing plastic nine, Velcro-cola ripping with my steps, in rhythm with the clock.

As much as I’d like to, I can’t wait forever, not even for you.

- it's interesint how the character, in the beginning is all worried and nervous and unsure, but when she decides to walk away she has this kind of steely determination (or at least, that's what i got...) especially when she says, "I can't wait forever, not even for you," which might not sound like alot, but for me has always seemed like a really hard thing to do, to move on like that takes lots of strength.
- i also really like how you constantly refer to the clock, it's really good at setting this atmosphere of urgency and loss at the same time -- dunno if that's the kind of thing you were going for, but i'm going to assume it is, since it makes sense and i'm always right XD

thanks a million for the lengthy review
aaalrighty.. typos have been fixed. *thumbs up*

i am sincerely sorry, but this is gonna be a bit of a laundry list, as it's the easiest way to address everything.. so:
- i don't know what you mean by 'forced' second person. :/ yes, i'm a bit of a tard, but.. explain?
- there is no real reason for midnight blue as a colour choice.. i guess i just like the colour, and dark blue coats are separate enough from a standard black coat, yet easily mistaken at the same time.
- what i thiiink i was going for with that bit was that disoriented feeling you get after you've mistaken someone... almost an irrational, slight doubt that it actually was the person you're looking for after all, even though you know it's not.. anywho glad you liked it
- lol why is the microphone part so me?
- i guess thats what i was going for with the clock? maybe more subconsciously, but whatevs.. i'm not nearly as eloquent at expressing what i actually want something to achieve when i first write it down.. sort of like with art, meaning comes later half the time, even if it was there all the time, just hiding out.

p.s. just because you posted ONE story doesn't mean i'm going to automatically withdraw the demotion. you've got to work a little harder than that...