Bottle Number 11

She put her empty bottle next to the other 10 empty ones. With a smile, she looked resolutely at the figure before her and said, “You know what Clara, I really really like you. Hell, I think I love you.”

A tinkle of laughter.

“Oh, stop blushing. Stop. You know I do, I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

A hand on hers. She gladly took it.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

A shush.

“No, I won’t shut up. CLARA, I LOVE YOU!” She stood up and spread out her arms. “I fucking love you and I want you and I want to be with you and I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend! Will you be my girlfriend?”

Silence.

“Clara? Will you be my girlfriend?”

Silence.

“Clara… Please…”

Silence.

“Clara?”

Silence.

She slunk down on her chair and started sobbing.

“Clara, I’m sorry…”

The sound of sniffles and tears.

“I’m so sorry…”

She looked up to see Clara’s urn stare her down. Was it judging? Was it regretful? Was it ever going to give her the answers she so desperately wanted?

She sighed and reached for bottle number 12. Maybe she’ll find the answer in this one.

–

For JJ.

–
Image source: deviantart.com/domophobia/art/Bottles-209227652
First written March 9, 2018.
#156