The room was nearly empty when I walked in for the first time.
There was not much personality to this space. Not much of anything really.
At the entrance you found a calendar to your right from 2014. The year was 2016.Without missing it, a red 10 x 30 canvas with pretty, melancholic, blue flowers hung, inviting you in.The bed could fit two people, it seemed perfect for the current situation. I could almost make ourselves out laying there, embracing each other. It had not happened yet, but I could see us.White walls. At the head of the bed there was a single small window with wooden blinds. At the end of the bed there was a TV held by a large drawer, where he kept his clothes perfectly folded.
We watched the leafs of fall cover his driveway, from the inside looking out.
We watched us fall in love under the covers of his bed.
We watched Netflix shows beginning to end, analyzing and reviewing each episode like we were critics, or like our pretentious opinion mattered.
We cried in each others arms.
We fell asleep and woke up next to each other, day in, day out.
Rainy, spring days knocked at the window of what had become our little safe-haven.
The rays of the summer sun woke us up.
One day I opened my eyes looking at the ceiling. I sat up and looked around the four walls of the room and realized the interior had my name written all over. There was not a corner of the safe-haven that did not have something I had given him. The love was apparent. You could tell that the person who slowly decorated the nearly empty room knew every bit about this boy. His favorite color. The shapes that calmed him and those he preferred having on his skin forever.I had made my mark in that interior that belonged to him. And I hoped that every time he looked around himself, that he would remember me, whether he wanted to think of me or not.
I drove by there a while back. After the storm and rage between then and now, it was now fall and the leafs covered his driveway, just like last fall.
The room was empty when I walked in.