"We're just two different beings, we don't fit. Like the moon and the sun." I whispered.
"What if you're wrong, what if you're the moon and I'm the sea. And I wait all day just to see you light up my dark."
A story where two worlds collide.
Mature...
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How Could You - Jessie Murph 🎵
Deciphering Latin was taking longer than I expected it to. I'm not sure why I figured It would be a piece of cake, but I've been sitting here for 3 hours in the library now and I was just about ready to pull my hair out.
This book wasn't something I could just google, so I had to cross reference with Latin translations, and so far I've gotten one page translated.
Only 24 more to go for the chapter I needed.
I got up from my table to scour the shelves again, seeing if anything could help me faster, other than the 8 books I've already opened and spread across my table. But I'll admit, I liked the feel of old books against my hands, and the smell of history and old ink saturating my senses.
I lightly grazed my fingers along the spines of Latin History books and thick books of old language. In my own little world I found myself now a bit further down, in the Art sections, sitting cross legged on the carpet. Now opening ones with colourful pages of old paintings and legends I've inspired to be since I was little. Enthralled with the pictures of paintings, a familiar scent wafted to me, an array of citrus notes with just a hint of vanilla. I smiled at the memory of him, as I turned page after page. But when the scent of him grew stronger I was pulled away from my own little world as a sudden wave of nausea hit.
I closed the book with a slap, and looked around the space I was in, I could still see my table from where I was but shelves encased me into a small corner. Smelling the scent heavy now as I remained still, I closed my eyes. Me a year ago would've scoped out every single area of this place to find him, or the trace of him. But that wasn't me anymore, I was leaving those thoughts and impulses behind me now.
The smell was probably just from one of the pages, something someone else had touched and then touched the book. My mind was racing as my heart pounded slightly, I needed to get up and go back to what I was doing. Because there was no way that he was here, and even if he was? What would he be doing, hiding in a shelf?
I laughed a little out loud at that thought.
I quickly got up realizing I left my papers out in the open as well, "See mom? This is exactly why I need help with this shit!" I said out loud.
Quickly putting the books back in order, I cleared my little spot of clutter and walked back to my table to try this shit again. Ignoring the fact that the smell didn't in fact, leave.
Sitting down into my chair, I leaned back and felt my face start to flush. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness, but instead an emptiness. A vacated spot from where his soul intertwined with mine, connecting to me like the lines on a road, bricks on a wall.
