Elissa Wonders (Semi-aesthetic)

Her hands are cold. She lumbers on through the frigid winds with her chin buried deep in her scarf. “Not long now, nearly there.” she reassures herself under her breath.

Elissa stops off at a coffee shop. Her cheeks, rose from the cold, contrast immensely against her pale skin. She releases a deep sigh of relief as she’s momentarily salvaged from the cold.
“One latte with extra cream please. On the go.” she says to the young worker.

“Anything else, ma’am?” he responds, almost jadedly. Elissa shakes her head. “No, thank you.”

Once outside again, Elissa grips possessively onto her cup til her frozen hands are functional enough for her to light herself a Marlboro. She smokes and sips away as she continues her journey home.

Elissa dumps her rucksack, coat and scarf on couch, and tosses her empty coffee cup in the kitchen bin. She embraces Angello, her Yorkshire terrier, before filling up its feeding bowl. The apartment is blanketed in a dense sheet of silence. And is, as usual, empty. She ticks off 3 things from her checklist which is plastered on the fridge door before reaching into the back of it for a chilled can of beer.

She sinks herself into her olive two-seat sofa, beer in hand, and for a while ponders what to do with her Friday evening.

I don’t want to do anything, she grumbles to herself. Nothing amuses me these days. And I just feel desolate.

She thinks about the laundry she had planned to do and remembers she’s already done it. She thinks about last week Wednesday and how she went out hiking on her own to sweat out the flu she had. She thinks about the 6 days left (at least) before she can collect her beloved custom tiffany-blue bicycle from the repair shop.

She thinks about Xavier. His shoulder-length semi-curls. His almost overly chiseled jawline. The mislaid glare in his eyes. His slim-fit-jeans-and-murky-leather-boots combination. He must have a flannel shirt in every colour. She thinks about how he’d tell her off for eating fries or anything “unhealthy”.

I wonder if his blonde dye has washed out by now.
I wonder if his girlfriend has had their baby yet.
I wonder if he’s happier.

Angello rushes to Elissa’s feet. She picks him up, and strokes him tenderly.
“At least I still have you, Lo-lo.”

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