Mariah Johnson

Clinging

I didn’t know her. I find it hard to fully remember her. But, I could feel her. The warmth of her skin on mine as she held me close, whispering her undying love for me. The smell of strawberries surrounded her. Her smile was so big I can recognize it in the mirror. I stare at my dark hair, emerald eyes, and pale skin as I begin to wonder what life was like before the Cling. Pop says I shouldn’t; that it will just make me hold on to something that is no longer there. As I clench the locket dangling from my neck, I forget his warnings and submerge myself in what-could-have-beens. I snap out of it at the sound of my fathers heavy footsteps. The closer they come, the less I hold the metal heart that encapsulates the only photo I have of her. As the door snaps open, I look at him in the mirror. He always looks both sad and happy at the same time. Ever since I was a child, his eyes have been cold, though his heart is undoubtedly warm.