Standing Still

Nazia let her car roll up to the building slowly, in a neutral glide of sorts. Pulling in closer to the parked cars as she glanced up the building to the 13th floor - the window she had glanced up at for months with aching longing in her heart.

She looked around her at the familiar surroundings. The cars beeping and buzzing by, the streets she'd walked alone late at night, the trees she had once plucked flowers from, the familiar scents of fuel and foliage. She felt that pang in her heart again as she turned the street to park.

She stopped in front of a house and pondered its irony. The various shrubs in its garden that had been planted to make it look beautiful -- the irony being that the clashing colors of the flowers that bloomed and the shotty work had actually somehow managed to make it look ugly instead.

Metaphoric? Perhaps.

As she walked through the sliding doors of the building her breath caught for a millisecond as it always did. She felt her heart skip a beat. Before it was the fear of acknowledging the love she had felt for this place and the insecurity in losing it all. Today the feeling was the same but the reason completely different - now it was the realization that none of it had ever been hers.

The doorman's familiar glance and his quick nod hello. The shuttle upwards to floor 13, the few second walk to the door, the dinging of the bell, the shuffle inside, the face opening the door, the light emanating from within.

She walks inside and feels the familiarity - this was once mine - then why do I feel as though it still is.

What is it that keeps bringing me back.