I really admire how our creativity works while we read things. We can see the color; we can feel the joy; we can hear the whispers; we can taste the food, even though we are only reading words, and combinations of it. I do not name my characters when I write short stories to allow flexibility across my readers. Here’s a sample of a literary about confessions, and getting over.
Remissione et Acceptatio
The cold breeze of the ocean, as the waves tossed itself to the shore, embraces the warmth of her cheeks. She was staring blankly, looking afar the darkest of the horizon. Few inches behind her is he who patiently waited for her to respond, or gave any hint that she wants to converse. His arms were pressed hard against the bench, as if supporting his body. His head lowered and he sighed deeply.
“Sorry.” She said, without looking at him.
“Why are you always telling that you’re sorry?” He asked, confused on what specifically is she apologetic for.
“For everything.” She looked at him. Tears were concentrating on the side of her eyes. She tried not to cry. Her face was emotionless, but her eyes showed her feelings. She was sad, longing for something she never had.
“What exactly?” He knew how this conversation will go through, and he was trying to help her. He understood her situation, and how they ended up sitting on a bench, on a typical midnight of March.
“About how things happened, and how we ended up to this. I just took my chance. I didn’t know you want more. I didn’t know that I am special.” She tried not to crack her voice. She tried not to let any tears fall from her face. He wanted friendship over the temporary, closer, and deeper romantic relationship she wished with him.
“It’s me who should say sorry.” He knew how she treated those moments they shared as a special date, and how she misinterpreted the movie they watched together as something different. “I should not allow myself to let you confused because of my actions.” He paused, then resumed.
“I am sorry for all those movies we watched together. I just love watching movie together with someone who has the same interest as me on sci-fi.”
“I am sorry for those time you were sad. I do not want any my friends to feel that, because I want you to be happy.”
“I am sorry for being there during those times when you were down. I just want to help you, and to cheer you because life is short.”
“I am sorry for all those moments when you feel like I do have other motives than to keep you as my lifelong friend. I want to keep you as one, because I am afraid to hurt you.”
“But I am sorry, now, because I now hurt you, even if I do not want to, even if I tried to avoid.”
She still stared blankly in the horizon. Above them were the stars shining brightly in absence of urban lights. Tears started to fall from her cheeks. She didn’t notice his arms trying to envelop her. She refused. “It’s me who should say sorry, not you.” She wiped her tears off, and looked at him, sincerely saying…
“I should say sorry for allowing myself to feel this. I know that you are generally happy, and close to people. You love being yourself, and you show to every people you meet that they are special.”
“I allow myself, because I let myself be immersed with the whole of you. You are special to me. You are the one I can talk to when I feel sad, or when I feel happy. We can talk about the stars, or how the politics was formed, or how people acquired language, or how powerful Russia and US are. I misinterpreted you’re actions.” She stood up, looking straight to the ocean as the breeze intensified.
“But tonight is the night. Like how the sun will welcome another morning, and another beginning, I should start welcoming tomorrow without hoping, and longing.”
She looked at him.
“Sorry. For trading my friendship with you over this petty, senseless, romantic relationship.”
She walked away.
There was silence.
Like the silence in their hearts, enveloping the loneliness.
He felt a sudden emptiness, now that his best friend was gone from his life. She sighed deeply, and whispered, “Sorry. I am just afraid.”
She felt a sudden lightness, now that what she kept for a long time was gone.