Streetlights―Aron M.

I'm walking down the flat, slippery pavement, still wet with rain. Your coat hangs loosely on my shoulders, and your hand limply holding mine.

The streetlights are giving off a luminous, yet slightly depressing, glow; barely giving us enough light to see clearly.

The silence is deafening, just the clicking of my heels on the concrete ground and your deep, solemn breaths.

We stop at my front door, I turn to look at you. Curtains of thick, brown hair hide your face. A nervous trick you've adopted over time. You've always found it hard to open up, you never tell me how you feel. Your skin is translucent under the streetlights' glow, I can see the streams of blue and green veins on your tired face. Your nails are chewed to the nub.

Your eyes, empty and glassed over.

We exchange simple goodbyes, then you disappear into the darkness, the glow of the streetlights swallowing you whole.

I stand there, with your coat still wrapped around me.

I breathe a warm, foggy breath into the cold November air.

My lipstick is smeared on my chin and my mascara sloppily smudged around my eyes. My cheeks are still sticky with tears I cried moments ago.

I'm shivering and my knees are buckling from the cold, but I stand still, outside my door, refusing to open it just yet.

A single bulb from the streetlights atop me flickers lightly, just like the bulbs of happiness in my heart are flickering as I see you slowly leaving my life. My batteries are dying soon, my hope is lost. You have taken my last light bulb with you.

I place my key in the lock and turn it gently. I step inside and the door shuts behind me.

I look outside my window one last time before turning away, and see the streetlights flickering once more.

Now, just like the streetlights outside my window, whatever is left of my happiness flickers and flickers until eventually, it must turn off. Fade away. Shut down. For good this time.