vocabulary:

(n.) anagapesis: no longer feeling affection for someone you once loved.

(n.) querencia: a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.
  
(n.) akrasia: lack of self-control.

(n.) basorexia: the overwhelming desire to kiss.

(adj.) verklempt: completely overcome with emotion.

(adj.) yonderly: mentally or emotionally distant.

**

It was on a brumous night when it happened. I had been quietly sitting in my living room all alone, drinking my hot chocolate and reading a hard-cover edition of my favorite book. All I could hear was the faint sound of the clock.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Nothing was out of place. But then, in the middle of my favorite part—because, yes, I'd read the book several times before—the ticking sound of the wooden clock in the corner was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. I stared at the door for a moment, my eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly in a confused manner.

I fixed my gaze on the clock.

12:46am

"Who could possibly be visiting me at this time?" I thought. Especially on a cold night like that one.

I gently placed my cup of hot chocolate and my book on the small table besides the couch, and began making my way towards the door. For some reason, my heart started beating just a little faster. I had no way of knowing who was on the other side of my yellow, wooden door. In that moment, I wondered if I should get one of those small holes to look through it. It would have been very convenient.

Slowly, I opened it. For a second, my body froze like the snow flakes coming down on you. Your eyes stared at me deeply, and I couldn't help but notice how eesome you looked at that moment.

Your dirty blonde hair was messy, some strands resting right above your eyes—a haircut you'd never had before—and your eyes looked tired, but also stared at me in a way I could never quite put into words. A big brown coat hugged your body, keeping you warm in its embrace, and the cold kissed your cheeks, giving them a slightly tinted color like the one on your lips. And as you slightly shivered, I knew it was a terrible thought to not let you inside my home, but part of me wished you could just stay out there because the snow flakes resting on your coat and on your hair complemented you so well.

"Hi," you whispered, not taking your eyes off of mine.

"Hi," I whispered back, and quickly motioned you to walk inside, already feeling the cold air start to work its magic on me as well.

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you rubbed your hands together and then put them up to your mouth, immediately letting your warm breath on them.

I simply stood there, eyes like marbles, looking at you cluelessly. It had been a year since I sent out that letter. Part of me had thought it never found its way to you, but now I wondered if it had just taken you that long to find the courage to reply.

After all, you were never good at replying. You'd always been more of a face-to-face conversation maker kind of person. And if that was the case, it explained why you were standing right there.

"What are you doing here?" The words escaped my lips.

For a minute, you didn't say anything at all. You just stood there, breathing calmly, your expression soft.

"No one ever loved me the way you did." You took a step closer to me.

I opened my mouth to speak but your finger motioned me to keep my words to myself. I obeyed.

"I tried to forget and replace what we had. For the longest time I thought you were just somebody else that crossed my path. But I was wrong and stupid and I need you more than I ever needed anyone."

You paused for a few seconds, looking down at your shoes with an expression of slight desperation. It almost seemed as though you were getting a thousand things off your chest and you needed a moment to catch your breath again.

"I love you more than I ever loved anyone. And I miss you more than I've ever missed anyone."

You stopped speaking again, trying to regain your composure a second time, to be able to finish saying what was on your mind.

"It's driving me insane. Goodness, I—I can't get you out of my head. Every time I think of you, hear, or see you I act like it doesn't matter to me at all. I thought I could move on and fall in love with someone else. I really did. But every time I try, I just end up thinking about you again."

You took another step closer. Now, you were standing only a few inches away from me and I had to tilt my head back just a bit to look up at you.

I took in every syllable. I felt my chest tighten, my ribs trying their best to keep my heart in place to stop it from exploding and my eyebrows furrowed together in a sad manner. I was absolutely overcome with emotion when I realized I was, just as you were mine, your querencia; where you felt most at home. Something about that thought made me feel warm all over.

"I-" I stopped to think. "I love you too."

I guess in that moment, the feelings of being over you proved themselves to never be there in the first place.

You looked taken back for a fraction of a second. Suddenly, your eyes flickered down to my lips and I knew we both wanted the same thing.

Not one part of my body moved; time was frozen. Except it wasn't, because I could still hear the clock ticking.

Your hand slowly reached out to caress my arm, and my feet developed a mind of their own, slowly moving towards you. We stood there so peacefully, all our problems seeming nonexistent, my brain forgetting about how distant we'd been for so long.

Finally, an inexplicable desire overruled every other emotion present as a magnetic force pulled us towards each other, causing our lips to crash.

You brought me even closer to you, both of us desperately trying to take in every bit of each other, hoping it could make up for all the time we spent apart.

But suddenly, as I tasted your kiss more deeply, I became livid. I quickly backed away and wiped my mouth, letting out a bitter laugh.

"You taste like burnt grass," I said bluntly, my tone disgusted.

You looked absolutely ashamed, embarrassment clouding your features.

"I'm sorry."

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." You croaked. "I can't—I don't know how to stop."

"Just stop."

"I can't."

"Stop!" I yelled.

"I can't!" You yelled back.

Your fist couldn't contain your anger any longer and punched a hole in my wall.

"This will never work," you glowered.

"It never has. And it never will," I replied just as darkly.

Then I woke up. I found my face was wet from crying in my sleep.

I looked at my phone.

It was 11:49pm. I had just sent the letter earlier that afternoon.