LESS THAN ONE HOUR

Define two:
| Love
| The way the sun hits her hair at six in the morning
| Beauty
| The moment of silence after your heart shatters

Define two. He had to define two out of the four options, but he could track down every moment that he witnessed them all. What hurt him the most was the fact that every moment he saw, included the girl he will never be able to let go of. The doctor said the pain was supposed to be gone after this test was over, but he questioned why the pain was more stronger than ever before and why the doctor would have the nerve to lie to the brokenhearted so easily.

He circled beauty. Spending no time to think about what he was going to write, he just started. "Beauty, beauty is her. Beauty is the way her dimples dug deep into her cheeks as her smile lit up the whole world before herself. Beauty is the way she spoke soft when she whispered "I love you's" into the back of my hands. Beauty is how she projected herself differently every day, starting from her hair to the bottoms of her shoes, and sometimes the way she even talked; which made us both laugh like we would never be able to feel again. Beauty is how she loved. How she tied her hair loosely into crazy buns, how she always woke up with a smile on her face, how the sun hit her skin when she walked around town. Beauty is the way her eyes held stars for the world that she held in her palms to see and how the fireworks that pricked at the corner of her mouth shouted excitedly every time they met mine. My mother was the most beautiful woman I could have ever known, but she was the definition that completed the story."

A small pull tugged at the corner of his lips; he was smiling. The thought of her brought him happiness, something he hadn't felt ever since she left, or something he hadn't felt since he pushed her away. He looked back up to the other options now that he had completed half of the task.

"The moment of silence after your heart shatters," he pushed lightly down on the end of the pen, all his happiness washed away, "is the most painful experience of your life. That night, her denim jacket was held snug around her thick frame, she was wearing her favorite lipstick color that complimented her skin tone so beautifully, and her hands didn't leave mine. That's until they did, and when they did, I couldn't comprehend what had just fallen from my lips. Her bottom lip quivered as her voice cracked in the most violent way possible. She asked me the same question three times and I didn't do anything, but just watch her fall apart."

"You are my first love," she cried, "and I was hoping you would be my last," her hands turned into fists as she tried to control the tsunami drowning out her voice. "This is funny, you know," she forced a laugh from her lips, "the other night I was thinking about how much you loved me and how hard that must be for you. You were sleeping beside me, you looked safe and warm. You even woke up with a smile on your face and I knew-" she paused, the sleeve of her jacket wiping her nose. Her eyes stayed glued to his shoes as she continued, "I thought you were the one."

He stood frozen, the whole world not moving except for her. He watched as the tears continued to stain her cheeks red and how her eyes began to puff up, "I'm sorry I didn't give you enough," she almost whimpered at the end, but swallowed it away, "and I understand that giving up on me was the easiest choice, so I hope you find someone one day who gives you more than just the stars," her shoulders slouched as she sighed, her hands stuffing themselves into her pockets, "I do," she whispered, "I do."

"The world stops spinning. You feel like dropping to your knees and screaming at anything and everything, but you can't. You're numb and you can't move and the feeling of numbness and pain is all too much, but you can't do anything about it. Your hands clench, but a thousand nails stab at your palms and at the tip of your toes. You will do anything to turn it all around and to pick up the pieces and to tell yourself you will be okay, but you blank. Your mind is fuzzy and white, you can't see a thing. All you can do is stand there, in shock, and let the silence dig so deep into your head that you begin to think that you are about to explode. You feel yourself digging your nails deep into your cold palms and you feel your toes curl in your shoes, but you can't understand why the burning sensation hidden in your chest won't go away. You don't understand why there is a metal seal bolted to your voice and why there are no tears, but you can feel them choking you," his hand began to hurt as each word dug deeper and deeper into the paper, but he ignored the feeling as his broken pieces could finally be poured out of him.

"The moment of silence after your heart shatters is as deadly as shaking hands with death himself; and the worst part is being all alone to put it all back together," his other hand held his head up as his shoulders slugged forward. His eyes read his last sentence once before closing them.

An image of her smiling. She wore her denim jacket, her favorite lipstick, and her hands were in his. The moment captured right before the gasoline was replaced with fire and their whole story came crashing down.

His eyes reopened to meet the bright white paper, now almost filled. He looked at the doctor before him and around the room. His head dropped back down to the pad before the pen hit the paper, "why was I the one left with all the ashes?"