Coffee queens. Post-it note love letters.
don’t forget to close the windows! :)-k
despite her best efforts, sara couldn’t fight the way the corners of her mouth pulled back into a grin. of course the reminder was left on a pink post-it note. with a smiley face. she wasn’t frilly by any means, but katie made no efforts to hide her femininity -- lip gloss and a quick coat of mascara every morning at least; meanwhile, sara had given up on trying to brush through her chestnut curls.
with anyone else, she would have taken offense at a note like that; considered it passive-aggressive, bossy, something like that. katie could probably leave her a note confessing to murder and she would think it was sweet. the adhesive strip stuck to the length of her finger as she used her other hand to make sure the apartment windows were all pulled shut, a barrier between their cozy (read: cramped) studio and the cold that was just beginning to bear down on connecticut. it stayed on her finger while she slid her socked feet into leather boots, clumsily pulled a beanie onto her head, and twisted the lid closed on her coffee tumblr. no one was around to witness it, but she felt a twinge of embarrassment as she realized she should probably put the note in the trash, but what if katie saw it there? why would she care -- but what if she did?
so it ended up in her sock drawer, the closest secret spot she could find before she bundled up and headed to class. it wasn’t long before the note gained a few companions: reminders to get dinner started because katie would be home later and they were having friends over, the occasional good luck! on test days. sara even started leaving her own on occasion, stuck on the coffee maker or the medicine cabinet, requesting a beer run because sara was still a few months shy of 21, or just a reminder that she loved her. a few of them were even left on those pink post-it notes because she’d run out of her own and was either too busy or too stressed to go out and replace them. at some point, she couldn’t quite recall when, she stopped thinking, just reveled in the moment of reading the note before slipping it into the sock drawer.
she didn’t give it a second thought until her final days of packing for a cross-country move; sea to shining sea and all that. she pulled them out with a pair of expedition-weight socks which hadn’t seen the light of day since the temperatures rose above the forty-degree mark. within minutes, her throat swelled with soreness, brought on by the repression of emotion; a heavy marriage of nostalgia, grief, and impending loneliness. but no water would spill from her eyes; katie would be home any moment now to take her to the airport, and this was already hard enough.
the post-its went into the middle pocket of her carry-on and stayed there for two years, travelling to california and then nevada. she thought they’d travel with her until she died; through multiple relationships she knew from the start would never last, until one felt safe enough that she felt safe in throwing them out, thanking them for their security, knowing she would still feel secure in the memory of them.