For window sills and lost romance..

{She sat on the windowsill, looking at the little droplets of drizzle slapping the window. She smiled wistfully as she waited for them to swell to their healthier forms, besmirching the window with definite tenacity. 
But that's not what was making it rain inside her head. It was His thought. It was the thought of curled toes and hot tea and fleeting kisses. 
And it was the thought of her one time best-friend. Of long drives and polaroid pictures.
She touched the glass. It's cold, foggy feeling made her shiver.
Her sat on the table, roaring away angrily on the phone. 
"No, I will not hold any longer! This is fucking ridiculous. I've been online for 20 fucking minutes. Can you count? TWENTY!"
Her verbal jostle continued as she watched She, sitting and smiling and reminiscing. 
Her slammed the phone down and looked at She.
"He wasn't the one."
She sat up and gave Her an empty look. The kind She did to the neighbours when they asked her to babysit. 
"Yea, you heard me. He wasn't the ONE. Neither will it kill you if he doesn't come back. And that 'friend' of yours really wasn't forever."
Her's speech was slowly making an appearance on She's face as it turned pink. 
"No ones dying, no ones dead. You have a fucking apartment with a french window where you can rest your ass and think about these people. Do you know what that means?"
No, She did not know what it meant. But She was aware of the retort gathering at the root of her mouth that she was anxious to spit out. "It means you could maybe mind your own business and let me be?"
Her just stared back. "The bills are my business. And you haven't paid them. So who am I getting the money from? The ONE or the FRIEND?"
She heard Her voice in her head. And She knew the rain had died down.}