Somebody was the first ever person to confess their love to someone else.
Do you ever think about that?
How scary that must have been. To tell another person something that has never been put into words. The word “love” probably didn’t even exist when this happened. I wonder how they did it.
I hope it went well for that person. I hope the love was returned.
The woman I loved isn’t in love with me anymore. I know this because I see photos online all the time of her and her new boyfriend. They’re on holiday right now, in another country. So please, tell me why I can see her from my window right now, sitting alone in the doughnut shop across the street.
I’ll save you the sob story. We didn’t work out and that’s that. It happens, and it’s terrible. So much love in the world, yet still not enough to go around. We broke up about 4 months ago, and I’m truly happy for her that she moved on. I have not been so lucky. I have been miserable, lost, and alone. But perhaps I should not have made it so obvious, because something has noticed, and seems to be using it to lure me.
I don’t know when Doughnut Be Alarmed opened - It’s been there since I moved here last year. I’ve always liked the name, and they make some delicious sweet treats. Their Peanut Butter Popcorn snack bags are to die for. Well, not quite. If they were actually to die for then I’d have gone to get some after Lucia appeared.
Lucia is my ex. She appeared in the window of the doughnut shop last week. My heart skipped a beat when I first saw her. She sat alone, crying, and drinking a caramel hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. I know it’s caramel because that was always her favourite, she would get it every Friday after work and bring it home with her. I didn’t go in, as I didn’t want to disturb her. But she was on my mind all day and all night.
The next day, I looked out my window, and immediately spotted her again in the exact same spot. She was still sobbing. There was whipped cream all around her drink, as if it was the same hot chocolate from the day prior, melted all over the table. At this point, I knew something was up. Especially when I realised it was only 10am and the place opens up at 11:30am, in time for lunch.
I kept watch from my window. The owner did not take note of her when he opened up. Nobody confronted her at all. Nobody attempted to clean up the mess. Yet at 1:00pm, their busiest time of the day, not a single person sat near her. It was as if they all vaguely knew someone was there, but they couldn’t notice or focus on her. I was the only one even looking at her, with nobody else even looking her way.
That’s when I got the first notification of a new post from Lucia and discovered her to be on holiday. I didn’t know what to think. This was definitely Lucia in the window, down to the smallest detail. She was even wearing her favourite denim jacket, with a rip near the shoulder, that she always said “gave it some extra style.” No, there was no doubt in my mind, this was Lucia. She probably just posted these photos late.
I took a closer look at the photos to confirm my suspicions, but instead disproved them when I saw a small detail. One photo was of a menu, with the “Soup of the Day” labelled as the correct date. These photos had been taken that very same day.
My attention diverted from my phone as I heard something drop in my hallway. I stepped out to find a leaflet dropped in front of my front door, posted through the letterbox. I could already see the logo for Doughnut Be Alarmed, and as I picked it up, also saw that they were offering “Free food all day.”
I glanced through the peephole in the door, and saw nobody posted through doors. I could not see anybody on the streets at all. What I could still see was Lucia, tears streaming down her face. For the first time, I noticed something else strange. The rip on her shoulder was on the wrong shoulder. It was almost as though she were a reflection of her true self.
I did a bit of digging and managed to find a post from someone in the construction industry. They claim that some public mirrors are not truly mirrors, but instead just a hole in the wall, leading to a replica of the room they’re in. Inside these replica rooms are creatures that can take the form of anybody. They’re so good at it that you think you’re looking in a mirror, and so nobody pays them any attention. Perhaps I have had the first encounter with one of these creatures in a new scenario.
I made sure to watch the place close up that night. Sure enough, nobody got her out of the establishment. The lights were off, the door had been locked, and there she stayed. It was as if she was a mannequin in a store, like it was normal for her to be propped at the front even when the building is dark and eerie. But she was not a mannequin, for I could still see her clearly crying. I knew that whatever this thing was, it isn’t Lucia. But my heart couldn’t help but feel for her. It all looked so real and it took every ounce of willpower to not attempt to talk to her. I knew approaching her at that time would only leave me as dead as the darkness she was in.
I am going to enter tomorrow. I’ll go in at 1:00pm, when it’s at its busiest. I will be surrounded by customers and will feel safe. I need a conclusion to this. If I just keep waiting until she goes away, I feel that I’ll forever regret doing nothing.
Maybe I’m blinded by love of the past.
I just want to talk to my Lucia.