A sea of red is rushing towards me. The color of blood swarms my eyes and the only way to save myself is to close them tightly. But I slowly open them and the more I focus, the more I see the blending of fake flowers, candy boxes, teddy bears, and February.
February. How is it already February?
My shoes tap the tiled floor as I wait patiently to be the next customer in line.
My mind is telling me that he was born in February. He was born only sixteen days before me. Sixteen days before my birthday in March. I wonder what you were like when you were sixteen. I wonder who’s heart you broke then. The month you broke for me was February.
But I met you in April, I met you after each of us had turned the dreaded age of twenty-six. The age most people choose to forget. We had spent our birthdays without knowing who the other person was. But the rest of my twenty-sixth year I spent obsessing over you.
Over the way you made me feel like a person I hadn’t met. I hadn’t ever melted to the floor when I was in anyone else’s presence. I was enamored with our love. Our cliche, foolish, and reckless love. Maybe that’s why you were born in February. You were born during the month of love because you were meant to break so many damn hearts.
A dullness takes over my body. My shoulders droop towards the tiled floor. My head hangs over my chest. I can’t stand up straight. I drag my limp body and bloodshot eyes closer to the cash register. I’m melting again. But this time I don’t want it to take over my ability to react. My body waits in line.
I’m waiting for Spring because I don’t want to see my shadow anymore. My shadow who follows me around and tells me I’m not good enough. I’m not who you wanted. You wanted to leave and I wanted to see the flowers bloom. You see, I don’t want to wait around for you to come back.
Twenty-eight days of waiting. I’m waiting for February to end and it has only just begun. It has only twenty-eight days but I can’t wait that long. I can’t wait for this month to stretch me thin. Stretch me into someone I haven’t met. I haven’t met a day that goes by where I don’t think about you. I don’t think I can do this for twenty-eight more days.
Twenty-eight is now the age we’re both about to turn. We’re both in new phases of our lives. New phases of new people and new states. New me. A me I don’t want to know without you.
Because without you, I’m just a lonely girl in a grocery store. A lonely girl spending her money on Valentine’s candy because she has a case of the February’s.