rosie13 (rosie13) wrote in arty_writing,

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Spring is here.

It was so bright.
I’d always be one of the first to burst out in the mornings. The warm, fat rays melted down onto me and I absorbed them.
It was so crowded.
But I didn’t mind that much. We were all friends. We had to be. Spending the rest of our lives like this, pinned together so tight.
Over there was the first to go.
Fading. Fading and changing into something different. No one really knew. But it was happening, and it was quick because soon it was spreading. From all the way on the other side to halfway here, and not stopping. I could only watch and wait as everything changed around me, and feel powerless and more cramped than ever.
I could feel it now.
One spark. Then two. Then three sparks, and then I stopped counting. They were leaving me- I couldn’t stop them. Next to me things went from vibrant to dull, and I felt myself slipping away with the rest of it. I still cared, but couldn’t show it.
The sun was so far away now.
Thinning out, losing the warmth and the flexibility. Everything tore a little bit whenever we moved now, crunching and crumbling. It was just the wind, but we swayed and wanted to fall. We actually wanted it, to disconnect and cut off everything we knew since the first sparks melted into us.
It should be over.
It’s darker for longer, and we don’t care about being cramped anymore. Just to fall. If only that, we’d stop moping and just lie there instead. Lie there and sleep, because we’d never really slept before, just closed ourselves off sometimes and then opened back up when we knew we needed to. We just knew.
Maybe today.
We think so. The light is even shorter know. We’re completely turned. Why not fall now. That would help.
“Oh, please. As if.”
“No, really! She was there, she saw it!”
“Ugh, please, give me a break.”
Rubber soles pattered over the gravel street. Her backpack shifted on her shoulder and she could hear her cell phone vibrating.
“Who is it?”
“Probably Tommy. God, he’s such a freak. I have no idea why you like him.”
“I do not!”
A leaf fell from a tree.
“Oh yes you do, don’t deny it.”
It curved a little as it fell, swaying.
“Why would you think I like him? He’s not even hot.”
Aiming for nothing, it reaches the ground.
“Uh huh, sure, whatever.”
Is it done?
“Seriously, I don’t like him!”
It’s done.
“Uh huh, sure.”
The little bits of brown and orange and grey-green scatter when she lifts her foot, and some stick between the treads. A collective sigh of relief is muffled by shrieking and ‘Fine! I’ll pick up the god damned phone!’
On the ground, a lonely chloroplast thinks about how they wish they were green again.
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