I saw you yesterday. You were walking along the opposite side of the street from me. I’m not sure if you noticed me. I guess it doesn’t really matter these days. You’d never acknowledge me. You were wearing that green dress again. I remember the day you bought it. I took you to town and showed you shops you hadn’t discovered yet. You fell in love with them. You spent what seemed like hours, pouring over the items they sold. Then you’d find something you liked and disappear into the dressing room. You’d emerge, inspecting the garment as it clung to you. You’d ask my opinion and you’d twirl. You looked beautiful in everything but I tried to be objective. You ended up only buying two dresses. A blue one and the green one. You were so happy that day. The light in your eyes was undeniable. I don’t think I’m conveying this memory well. I doubt I could ever do it justice. I doubt I could ever explain how the sheer happiness of that day will always be with me. And how, whenever I see you in that dress, that happiness is the stabbing pain in my gut that makes me sick

-Alice

I don’t know why I’m not shy around you. For some reason I can manage to not only hold a conversation with you, but I’m actually interesting. Hell, I’m even sometimes funny! I don’t just sit there in silence, wondering what I should say. I don’t glance at you and wonder what you’re thinking, hoping you’re not wishing you were elsewhere. I don’t start rambling and talking about things you hardly care about. You seem to shine light on that part of me which actually makes me a good person. You hold a candle to my mind and let my thoughts come to the light. I don’t lose control when I see you smile, no matter how beautiful it may be (and believe me, it is). I don’t just sit there in silence, hoping that will draw your lips to mine as some way to fill the void (though feel free to kiss me whenever, I won’t complain). I don’t want to hit myself for ruining every encounter I have with you. Things go well when I’m around you. I feel human and it feels so good. When I’m with you, nothing matters. So why are we still only friends?

-Alice

The wind rustled the trees. The first few discoloured leaves of the season floated gently to the ground like lonesome flakes of autumn confetti. The branches were swaying slightly. A floating dance in the wind. The grass joined in. Being swept about by the strong currents of air. The sun was getting low in the sky as the afternoon drew to a close. Clouds were hanging in strands across the sky, waiting to reflect the red rays of the coming sunset. Waiting to make a scene of beauty. Nature would soon be painting one of those pictures you think would only ever exist in a film. You could hear the minutes drifting away. That little ticking countdown to an event that happened every day, so no one really took notice of how beautiful it could be. On a day like this, the effect can be astounding. There wasn’t a hint of gloom in the sky. Nothing to sully the bold colours of the sunset. But no one would notice. No one would look out at it and be struck with inspiration. No feelings of indescribable beauty. Nothing. Such a pity everyone died in that gas attack.

-Alice