THEY DON'T REMEMBER

  Sitting in the corner of her mother’s shop, softly sobbing and unable to breathe right. There was a crushing feeling of despair her lungs didn’t think they could handle, her ears rang with the thumps of her racing heartbeat and she couldn’t see through the dull haze her world had taken.

Oh to be young and in love. She was tired of being told that her time will come because she wasn’t ready yet. She wanted her time to be now! And with him…

She’d been in love with him for a very long month now. Often pining after him and throwing cute smiles and flirty eyes his way when he came to purchase provisions. Surely he’d noticed that she found him pleasing to her eyes.

At sixteen, she was tall for her age and possessed skin so smooth and golden that her peers envied her immensely. Her face structure was just right, accomodating her big doe eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips. Puberty seemed to be doing her justice so she was perfect for him. That’s what she kept saying to herself anyway.

Imagine the shock that went through her when she saw her soon-to-be boyfriend locking lips with her friends senior sister down the street close to the entrance of the town bar. The bar. Open to folks of legal age. Just five years away from her. That’s all she needed.

How could he though?! Wasn’t she good enough for him to be patient?

The race from the street back to the empty shop could not be understood by anyone. Her heart was broken and she couldn’t see past the waterfall her eyes had formed.

Goodness, is this the feeling they talked about when you’ve been betrayed by your lover?

To think that if someone heard her talk about her plight, they’ll scoff or laugh and tell her that it’s just the beginning. That it’s just infatuation.

How she hated that word!

How could they understand? She’d planned their whole life right from her education to the names of their kids for heaven’s sake!

And now, it had all come down to nothing… Absolutely nothing.

Sniffling and wiping catarrh from her nose, she simpered to herself,

” They don’t remember what it’s like to be young or to even be in love. Their blasted adulthood has blinded their eyes from certain kind of emotions. And to think that being an adult is a requirement to act on this feeling. The irony.

Well, I’m pained and I’m still a teenager so please.”

Then she stood up, brushed herself off and carried on with her duties, wondering why on earth anyone would want to grow up (not considering the issue of falling in love, of course).