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  • Maria Moiteira

Our Last Kiss

TW: self arm, suicide       

Note: read while listening to “ceilings” by Lizzy McAlpine

Chris felt at peace, there with Eva. They had been sitting on that old wooden bench for the past two hours. Eva had just been accepted into Juilliard and Chris had finally gotten out of his abusive household. Life was slowly getting better. He glanced at  her, appreciating her soft cheeks and full lips. He kissed every single freckle on her face and his heart warmed up as he laid one more on her lips. He didn’t mind that the rain was starting to fill his shoes with water because she was there, and as long as she was, he was fine. 

“We have an umbrella, you know? There’s no need for you to be rained on,” Eva said, trying to get the umbrella to cover him. Her laugh was so precious. 

“I love you; you know? I don’t think I could ever fall in love with anyone other than you, Eva, you’re my home.” His eyes were filled with honest tears as Eva kissed him, grateful for his kind words. 

It started raining harder as they walked to Chris’ car. He opened the door for her, admiring her dirty wrists, always covered with small bits of paint, too stubborn to let her go. She was so pretty, it was hard for Chris to even believe she was real; he ran his fingers through her copper hair and smiled. They talked about the night they had met, two years prior, when Chris found Eva crying desperately, holding on to her small body as tears fell down her face. He never intended to stay at that party for long, but when he saw her like that, he knew he didn’t really have a choice. He needed to stay.  

“Remember the coffee shop we used to go to? I tried so hard to convince myself  it was the best, but you were the only reason I even went there.” He smiled. After the party, they started to hang out there every day, it didn’t take long before the caramel macchiatos were replaced with quick getaways to Eva’s house, kisses, and long-lasting dreams. 

“One day I’ll become the greatest artist this world has ever known, and then, when I’m famous enough, I’ll give it all up for our little van life. Travelling the world  with you and our black cat! I think Jack would be a cute name for him. Don’t you?” she asked, holding Chris’s hand as he parked the car in front of his house. His heart was pounding, he loved her so much it was unreal. But he already knew what was coming. He recognized the bittersweet warmth caused by her goodbye kiss.

“Please don’t go,” he begged, tears starting to rain down his cheeks, shaking and feeling the warmth being replaced with the same unbearable pain he was already used to feeling. 

“You have to let me go, Chris. This isn’t real,” she said as he broke down, staring at the empty seat next to him.

Laying in his bed, in the same old house, filled with the same old screams and shouts, Chris held on to his cat, Jack, listening to the same cruel news.

“It has been one year since the nineteen-year-old girl, Eva Matthews committed suicide. Relatives and locals grieve her loss till this day.”

Edited by Ricardo Cerdeira

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