Aurora Magazine 2020

Aurora

Date Gone Wrong Gwyneth Renfro

Hospital lights whizzed past like streaks of paint down a canvas. Voices were slurring together into a language I could not understand. Faces became alien and distorted. Why couldn’t I lift my legs? What had happened to me? My memory felt like it had been wiped clean, the last few hours of my life were just gone. I tried to use my lips to form any question at all, when a nurse noticed I was awake. Her fingertips felt so soft on my face... she was closing my eyes... and then it was black. Sun rays pushed past the darkness engulfing the room, warming the cold linoleum tiles covering the floor. I opened my eyes to gaze upon a cozy hospital room. In the left corner by the window was a single orange armchair that, apart from a few minor tears and stains, looked rather comfortable. Above it hung a crooked watercolor painting of a field of sunflowers trying desperately to make the patient feel “at home.” Although it failed to give me that feeling, I could appreciate that the artist had tried to make me feel his vision. A small bathroom was notched into the right corner of the room, and my bed was on the far wall with a perfect view of my room’s entrance. Since I could not remember how I landed myself in the hospital, I began to run through different scenarios of what could have happened to me. Harry and I had planned to meet for dinner at O’Charlies, a local pub I had frequented a lot. We had never met in person before, but I had been “with him” for at least six months through text, Facetime, and phone calls. He and I lived many states away from each other and had met through Facebook, but the spark was undeniable, and we fell fast. Every text he sent was more charming than the last, and he had shown an earnest interest in me from the very start. It seemed like he could not get enough of our conversations. Morning, noon, and night we would text for hours and hours about everything we could think of. We shared our favorite movies, food, songs, and music. Our sense of style complemented each other, and I could not deny that he was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. Descriptive words could never do Harry justice. He had flowing locks of brown curls that wrapped around his shoulders,

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