A Bitter Ritual

The Brocade below was written by Kelly and used the words Hate and Anticipation in connection with the photo below. You can write a Brocade too! Just open the Writing menu in the navbar above, and click Brocade: A Writer’s Exercise!

I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he was gone. The hollow sensation in the very pit of my stomach seemed to linger day after day. How could he have left me here, surrounded by people who only pretended to sincerely care about what I was going through? He was gone. Gone forever. I needed routine, needed something to help me cope with what my brain refused to realistically acknowledge. So I bought flowers. I vowed to visit him every Thursday afternoon, when classes dismissed for the weekend. Every week I sat with him, talking with him as if he could somehow partake in the conversation. As the weeks turned into months, I found myself looking forward to our time together, however twisted that feeling may have been. It was the one feeling that kept me going, the one act that kept me sane. All I wanted was to feel close to him again, and if that meant sitting in the dry dirt and sharp grass all alone with only my memory of him — us — to keep me company, I would gladly carry on with my routine.

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