All the While

All the While

A Story by Francisco Mendoza

Read this while listening to Sam Smith's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". All rights reserved.


The hair on his arm stood up as his callous-laden palm slid down her skin. Although the coarseness of his hand was enough to slightly bring her back to consciousness, he didn’t think twice about risking it because the memory of her satin skin in contact with his was something that he just couldn’t do without.

There was a peaceful ambience that filled the small studio-type room. Despite being crammed with a creaky twin bed, an old oak book shelf, which had a sweet scent reminiscent of maple, and a two-person dining set, the room was quite homey. During the past year of living in that hole-in-a-wall, he was able to experience more of the world with her than anywhere else. 

He buried his face in her thick brown hair, as he tried to remember the way she smelled. He closed his eyes, and with each inhale, the strong scent of the detergent that was probably stuck to the pillow case was replaced with the aroma of hot chocolate and freshly baked oatmeal cookies on a cold Christmas morning. Not wanting to be creepy, he resigned to inhaling once, taking in all that he could for the last time, and then letting it all out as he reluctantly removed his face from the comfort of her nape.

There were so many things that he wanted, no, needed to remember about her, about them, that he was afraid he wouldn’t get the chance to secure everything in his memory before sunrise came. And although sleeping beside her made the night as perfect as it can be, the feeling of dread heightened with each tick of the rusty arm of the wall clock. He was afraid of what the first streaks of morning light will bring. He wasn’t ready for it.

Accepting what’s to come wasn’t an easy task to do, but he didn’t have a choice. The wheels have been rolling for months now, and it was only a matter of time before he had to face the hand that they were dealt. The thought brought about a heaviness in his heart, simply because he felt total helplessness. 

“Is this what fate looks like?”

With no straight answer, he forced himself to be contented with the little that they had left. Before retreating to his own pillow, he whispered something inaudible into her ear and hugged her tight. Only then did he close his eyes and allowed himself to slowly drift off.

And then, as if totally aware of everything that had transpired during her slumber, with eyes still closed, she smiled.

“I love you too."


© 2015 Francisco Mendoza

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Added on July 26, 2015
Last Updated on July 28, 2015
Tags: short story, christmas, separation


Francisco Mendoza
Francisco Mendoza


I am a hobby writer. I've always been fascinated with words. I tried to get into the writing industry before by way of writing/blogging/editing jobs, but since I didn't have any prior experience, I wa.. more..