It was too early in the morning, the sun barely rissing, throwing a soft yet lifeless light through the kitchen windows. They were at her house, the after-party of one which should have been the most unforgetable of nights, full of memories to remember and anecdotes to tell, yet, for her, it was nothing but a continous of small, somehow bitter, thoughts.
They were both seated on different kitchen chairs, at an arm-reach distance. She had been the last one to sit down, and she'd positioned herself near, on purpose.
He was waiting for the cab to arrive, she'd offer her house to keep him company while waiting.
"You could've been part of my group of friends, you know" said he with a half smile, half grin, and she got the feeling he was being apologetic.
His eyes were a little dull, shineless, a little drunk, she could tell, yet not overlly so.
(why won't you kiss me?)
"Life had other plans for me it seems, it gave me some great, sincere friends I wouldn't change for anything. But yes, I guess we could have been pretty good friends" she replied, fixing a strand of hair which covered her pale, frail face.
He looked at her and she couldn't see any understanding in his eyes. Something in her chest, inside her heart, ached a little. Longing for a deep conversation which wasn't going to happen, she remained silent, staring blue eyes into the other's focusless honey-like ones.
After some minutes, they listened a car's horn. He quickly stood up.
She followed him outside, to open the door. Not even once did he turn around to look at her, and her heart squeezed even more.
(don't go, please, kiss me)
She watched him go, face expressionless.
He hadn't even kissed her cheek.