ONE- STALE HAMBURGERS IN WINTER

This one's for @PipSqueeks88, just for being her. Which is reason enough. Also, she has a romance story called Discovering Aurora which is definitely a lot better than this pile of...doo.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Dear Alice,

Do you remember that cliche? That one where your mind flashes through all the things you used to do with her before she left you? You remember, right? Not true.

I can remember the moment. You were there, in those ripped up jeans you liked to wear for some reason. And your indoor-socks. I found a pair lying under the sofa set yesterday. It was hard not to cry.

Anyway, I can still remember.

Memory, again another cliche.

What is the cliche anymore?

It must be this constant reflection, right? Just sitting around, playing Fifa (by myself), and moping, and thinking about you.

You were there.

Let's think about that for a while.

That's the one good thing I can hold on to now that you're gone. One thing. I can go back to making processes.

So let's make a systematic process, shall we? To get my thoughts clear. The cliche here would be: "I'm doing this for me. For some sort of catharsis."

But that isn't true, as always. This is for you.

You need to understand.

I finally want to answer that question you asked me on our second date when you had butterscotch ice-cream running down the left of your lips. What am I thinking?

What am I thinking?

Here's the process.

1- You were there. You were there, in front of me. If I walked a few paces forward and held out my hand, I could touch you. I could feel the velvet of your cheek. I was breathing the same air as you. Which is another cliche (my life is defined by cliches). But let's make an exception in this case. You were there. And that by itself is just amazing. Because you aren't here anymore.

2- You were talking. Which was new. I didn't know two people could be with each-other everyday and just...not talk. I didn't know a lot of things till I met you. But then you started talking again. I didn't really want to hear the things you were saying. I don't think anyone would ever want to hear that. But, the sound of your voice was just so beautiful I could almost cry.

3-

You know what? Lets scrap 3-

Let's make a sub-process.

A nested list.

Let's call this sub-process: 'Things Alice does When She Decides to Leave'.

A- She packs her bags.

B- She talks to me again.

C- She kisses me on the cheek.

D- She opens the door.

E- She doesn't look back.

You didn't look back Alice.

What does that mean?

It means you don't care, Alice. That's all it means.

I'm tired of making processes. I want to go to the amusement-park again. But there's nobody here.

This isn't an unsent letter though (you know that, you're reading it).

I hope you think of me when you read it.

I know you won't come back because that isn't how this works. That would be the one cliche I'd welcome but it is the impossible cliche.

I have lost hope.

I guess I have.

But think of me, nonetheless. Think of me.

This place is amazing in Winter. I can't step out, even when I want to. Which is never. Because it's snowing. And you liked the snow.

I made hamburgers yesterday and tried to eat it with barbecue-sauce and peanut butter like you asked me to but it tasted old. And stale. And cloying.

I love you.

Jake.

I'm writing this basically as a kind of writing exercise, to try to write outside my comfort zone. It probably isn't very good. Vote if you like, though I'd understand if you didn't like. But tell me how I can do better with this kind of material.

And the updates for this will be few and far between. Because I'm focusing on the cat-book for now.

My apologies in advance if some demonic-refrigerators and things of that nature come crashing through. I am still me, after all.

Much love.