The Scarf
Title: The Scarf
Rating: PG
Word Count: 479
A/N: Based on a prompt offered by 0_clay_0: scarf, descriptive, 1st person, nostalgia.
The Scarf
It's morning, and when I'm taking my jacket off the rack, I see it.
I see the scarf, with its two colours that are starting to turn pale after all this time, and its fabric so thin because of all the time someone has worn it.
It's usually out of sight in its hiding place, in a dark place behind the rest of the coats, vests and jackets, against the cold brick wall. The morning sun that shines through the glass has caught sight of it as well, and the yellow rays remind me of the the past we have together - not me and the scarf, but me and my lover.
It reminds me of the mornings that were filled with laughter and youth, and innocence and a naïvety we didn't know we would loose so soon. We would chase each other past the coats, and the hats we used to have laying about, spread all over the floor, the silliest we could find.
Of the neighbours' complaints, because we were making too much noise on sunny mornings, and the days on which we didn't show a sign of being alive because we were in bed - our days were short back then, and our nights long. We would spend hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and discussing something we were so passionate about, some days it would be about something we'd seen outside, and something it was as small as a new song.
And it reminds me of how, when only one of us went out, the scarf would wrapped around the neck to stay warm, because no matter how warm outside looked with the warm and bright sun, it was winter with the wind gusting through the streets, and snow occasionally falling down. It was winter with grey skies and empty trees, and cold English weather - not that we minded, because there was the scarf to accompany one of us, our smells blended together and to make ourselves feel safe.
But as the weather slowly turned warmer, the wind stopped blowing so harshly and the first green leaves appeared, the scarf was worn less and less, and soon it disappeared from our necks and our vision, and we wouldn't hide in our home together but get out to see the sun. Walk hand in hand, instead of being alone and burying your nose in something simple as a scarf, only to smell your love.
And when it'll turn winter? Then we'll start wearing the scarf again. Then we'll remember the warm days we were outside together, while we're inside and hiding from the cold, winter weather, and smell the other to feel safe when we're outside, on our own.
When I'm finally done thinking, I walk out of the door, into the warmth and into the arms of the one person I love.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 479
A/N: Based on a prompt offered by 0_clay_0: scarf, descriptive, 1st person, nostalgia.
The Scarf
It's morning, and when I'm taking my jacket off the rack, I see it.
I see the scarf, with its two colours that are starting to turn pale after all this time, and its fabric so thin because of all the time someone has worn it.
It's usually out of sight in its hiding place, in a dark place behind the rest of the coats, vests and jackets, against the cold brick wall. The morning sun that shines through the glass has caught sight of it as well, and the yellow rays remind me of the the past we have together - not me and the scarf, but me and my lover.
It reminds me of the mornings that were filled with laughter and youth, and innocence and a naïvety we didn't know we would loose so soon. We would chase each other past the coats, and the hats we used to have laying about, spread all over the floor, the silliest we could find.
Of the neighbours' complaints, because we were making too much noise on sunny mornings, and the days on which we didn't show a sign of being alive because we were in bed - our days were short back then, and our nights long. We would spend hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and discussing something we were so passionate about, some days it would be about something we'd seen outside, and something it was as small as a new song.
And it reminds me of how, when only one of us went out, the scarf would wrapped around the neck to stay warm, because no matter how warm outside looked with the warm and bright sun, it was winter with the wind gusting through the streets, and snow occasionally falling down. It was winter with grey skies and empty trees, and cold English weather - not that we minded, because there was the scarf to accompany one of us, our smells blended together and to make ourselves feel safe.
But as the weather slowly turned warmer, the wind stopped blowing so harshly and the first green leaves appeared, the scarf was worn less and less, and soon it disappeared from our necks and our vision, and we wouldn't hide in our home together but get out to see the sun. Walk hand in hand, instead of being alone and burying your nose in something simple as a scarf, only to smell your love.
And when it'll turn winter? Then we'll start wearing the scarf again. Then we'll remember the warm days we were outside together, while we're inside and hiding from the cold, winter weather, and smell the other to feel safe when we're outside, on our own.
When I'm finally done thinking, I walk out of the door, into the warmth and into the arms of the one person I love.