I walk without knowing where I'm going.
The night air wraps around me like something alive, cold and sharp, biting through the thin fabric of my shirt. My skin prickles with goosebumps, but I barely feel it. I barely feel anything.
My face is still wet with tears, though I've stopped crying—the evidence remains, cold tracks down my cheeks that I keep wiping away with the back of my hand. But they don't stop coming. Silent. Stubborn. Unstoppable. They keep sliding down my skin, tracing paths I can't control.
I don't know what I'm feeling right now.
Anger? Sadness? Nothing at all?
There's something tangled inside me, a knot I can't untie, a weight I can't name. It presses against my chest, heavy and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. I keep walking, but I don't know where my feet are taking me. I just need to move, to escape, to outrun the echo of his voice, the warmth of his lips still lingering on mine.
My first kiss.
