Warmth

Elena hunched over the book she was reading, ignoring her mother’s repeated attempts to tell her to get out of the house. Her boyfriend, Eric, had left for America to further his studies a month ago, and would only be back in three years time.

“Stop pining for that boy, Elena, and do something constructive for once!” Elena pursed up her mouth in disdain.

She could feel his breath; his hand, slipping into hers…

Her mother sighed. Holding up a shiny, plastic card, she waved it in front of her daughter’s face to catch her attention.

“Here. Go the mall. Anywhere. Shop all you want.” Elena brightened up.

“Really?” Grabbing the card, she bounded out of the house before her mother could reply. Her mother smiled knowingly, immediately regretting her decision.

“Shoes, half-price… dresses… ooh! 60% off on skirts!”

Elena was lost in a shopping frenzy, a magical land, with admittance only on the flash of a card or a purse full of crisp notes. Squeezing through the crowd, laden down with her numerous purchases, a warm, comforting hand brushed past hers, making her stop.

The warmth… His hand… Pressed close to hers… Reassuring her that…

She dropped the bags she was carrying. No! It couldn’t be! Eric…

“He only went there to withdraw from that horrid school…” she exclaimed with a lengthy breath. “He wanted to surprise me, the darling…”

She spun around. “Eric!”

His hand, clasped in hers…

“Eric?”

Giving warmth to hers, keeping her safe…

Past caring, she bolted for the entrance of the mall, leaving her pricey luxuries on the cold marble floor for the next mall-rat to pick up.

“Mrs Olsen, is Eric back?”

The plump, jolly woman looked down at the petite girl panting on her front door, looking quite winded.

“No, dearie. Bless you, you would have been the first to know if he did.”

The warmth seemed stuffy and hot…

“Sorry to trouble you…”

“It’s no problem, do stay for tea!”

“I must go, my mother is expecting me back for tea…”

The girl turned, confused and lost, her head hanging, past the veranda.

It no longer gave her comfort… only false hope, false courage…

She stopped, her jet-black hair swaying like the willows in the wind. Fumbling for the thin piece of plastic in her back pocket, her fingers closed in on empty air.

That hand…

“…?”

Her security blanket…

“Where is it? No, no, no!”

Was it still…?

“Where did you get this?”

“I’ll sell it to you for a hundred,”

“Fifty. You must have taken it from a baby!”

“Seventy. Nah, I snitched it from this girl at the mall. She didn’t even protest, just stood there and let me feel her pockets. A clean getaway.”

“Deal. Give me that card, now.”

That once comforting warmth, was no more.