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For those who have had their love taken away, and wished that someone would come to ease their pain. As always, comments are greatly appreciated.



I met her at the Chicago hostel four days into my first week there. She was a petite angel, her looks so out of place and yet so familiar at the same time. I was sitting at my desk, doing the usual paperwork and answering tourist and visitor questions. People from all over the world came to stay at our hostel; Chicago was one of the only big cities where the buildings stood like a hump in downtown, and spread out slowly and steadily into the neighbouring areas, a defined bell-curve shape or the shape that water makes when its surface is first broken by something solid from a long period of calm. What I loved most were the skyscrapers lining the enormous streets, like concrete trees in an urban jungle. What was so astonishing was how long it had taken me to fall in love with the place. And I loved it all the more after she left, when I realized that I’d met the love of my life there, and how, for a brief flash of time, she’d both stolen and fixed my heart.

She was a tiny girl. At 4’10”, I had at least a foot on her height. Her face was unusual in that her nose was a little too large for her head and her eyes were always slightly squinty; a pair of enormous and thick, round glasses that covered half her face perched on that too-large nose, giving her the appearance of a diminutive owl. Her lips were small and crimson red in a permanently puckered expression, as though she was always on the verge of kissing someone. Curly, brown hair adorned her head, cut short like a boy’s, tousled and messy also like a boy’s. She wears a green knitted sweater two sizes too large for her, like a hand-me-down from a bigger brother, and a pair of jeans that tapered from her thighs to her ankles atop a pair of raggedy, old shoes. Her little-girl’s breasts poked outwards from under the shapeless sweater, and though I didn’t know it at the time, she was much older than she appeared, twenty going on twenty-two. She spoke like a mouse, in the way that mice emit tiny peeps of wonder and amazement at the world at large whenever they poke their heads out of their hidden abodes. And so that was the way she was, and that was the way I would always remember her.

I’d broken up with my long time girlfriend recently, and I was still grieving from the loss. How much I’d loved her I never knew until she was gone, but that was always the way it goes; no one appreciates people, not even the ones they love, until it was too late past the point of no return, when all that’s left of them was their scent on an old, unwashed t-shirt or that hair band they’d carelessly tossed aside on a night of high passion and drunken franticness. I never thought I could love anyone; I’d been resigned to my fate – that my heart was somehow disconnected from all the rest of the hearts and love of the world. Megan had taught me how to love when I didn’t realize that was what I’d been doing. When she left me, she took all of her magic away with her, and I felt the pang of loss and want all the more as I thought about the next person she would give this gift to. Would I be forgotten like all the rest, lost in the ether that takes all of us away into a world of unknown until another anchor moored us to solid ground underneath the shifting sea? I wanted to believe that it was how the world worked. Maybe if we keep plunging further and further out from the shore, and if we go far enough into the horizon, mother nature would take care of the rest and we would find the thing we had been searching for, for such a long time. I had wanted to believe, but I couldn’t.


The girl gave her name as Chelsea. She came up to my counter, peaking up with her hands on the ledge. Those bespectacled eyes peered at me, searching and wise. “Hi,” she peeped, shoving a large docket of papers onto the counter. “I’ve run out of money, and I need a place to stay. Can I stay at your house?” The girl said this in an accent I couldn’t place, so I assumed she meant the hostel. Behind her stood two enormous suitcases, one of which reached up to her shoulders, and the other bulged dangerously as though it was filled with rocks. Very heavy and large rocks. She squinted at me expectantly.

“Sure, you can stay here at the hostel. I have to talk to my manager to see if we have anything for you though, if we have a free bed tonight you can have it.” I started punching the keys on the keyboard to tease the information out of the piece of junk computer software. It beeped and clunked at me, churning out its bits at its own leisurely pace. Chelsea was patiently looking Kartal escort up at me. “Yes?” I asked, trying to break the weird tension that was building. This girl is really strange, I thought.

“I don’t want to stay at your hostel. I am coming to your home to sleep.” The matter-of-factness with which she said this caught me off guard. Here was this little girl, with her owlish eyes and her oversized sweater, telling me what to do. To let her stay at my house, no less. I was gearing myself up to shout at her when she continued quietly, “You need someone to help you. I can see your soul. Let me help you stop hurting.”

Reflexively, I covered my heart with my hand to hide my soul, which immediately made me feel like an idiot causing me to throw my hand out by my side again. She can see my soul? What the hell kind of scam was this? I frowned down at her from my higher perch, staring into her eyes, which squinted back at me with a determination that I hadn’t expected.

This lasted for almost a minute before someone came up behind her to get checked in. They eagerly waved their sheet of electronically printed paper at me. It contained all the information I needed and monies all paid up, so could I stop what I was doing with this girl and give them their keys so they could go to their room and sleep because they’d just come off a 40 hour plane ride and they were really tired and only wanted to rest without having to wait for a bunch of idiots that are standing there staring at each other?

“Alright fine, here are your damn keys, now get the hell out of here!” I tossed the key at them and waved my arms vigorously in the air as though I was an insane monkey, possibly on some sort of hallucinogen, and they scampered off down the hall, presumably to go and hole up in their room with their doors locked and barred to keep out the crazy guy at the counter. I smiled as I remembered the look of fear on their faces. It gave me a sense of sadistic satisfaction.

Chelsea had taken up a place across from me by the window. She sat cross-legged on her luggage, staring my way. I stared back.


Five hours later, a little midget followed me down the street, dragging her oversized luggage behind her with her puny arms. I was a fast walker, and I tried to lose her as I trekked the twenty blocks from the hostel to my house as quickly as I could. Each time I looked back, Chelsea was still hot on my trail, her body almost horizontal to the ground with her weight thrown forward to keep up with me, a look of determination on her face. After about ten blocks of this, I began to feel sorry for her, so I slowed down and even tried to help her, but she just shrugged me off so I went back to sulking and trekking silently. I don’t know what her plan was, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some random girl into my apartment carrying god knows what in those bags. What was she going to do when I lock her out? I must have weighed twice as much as her, so it’s not as though she could overpower me. It didn’t take long before I found out.

We reached the door to my apartment building and jamming the key into the lock, I jigged it back and forth, trying to find the sweet spot. The stubborn bastard of a lock, as it so often did, got stuck, so I had to shoulder the door in while twisting the key at the same time. A minute of fighting tooth and nail with the door got it open; my shoulder was sore, as was my hand from working the key. I was an inch from punching a hole in the door, but then I saw Chelsea watching me, so I calmed myself and walked through, shutting it behind me. She didn’t try to run in after me, not even to ask me to let her in. I watched her stand on that curb for ten minutes from the window of my room before it began to rain.

Everything in sight was soaked within sixty seconds. The trees in the park across from my building were rocking violently in the wind, gravel in the fields turned to soggy mud, and the ditch that’d been dug by the children a week ago became like a flooded river. The torrents of rain hit my window like big bullets of water, making a loud tapping sound each time a drop splattered itself onto the glass. Through sheet after sheet of rain, the tiny figure of a girl and two ominous shapes that stood beside her could still be seen. With a resigned sigh, I ran downstairs to find the door opening miraculously without any struggle for once in its pathetic life, and I took her by the hand and lead her inside before running back into the rain to lug her bags in after her. I was dripping from head to toe by the time I got the door closed again, but Chelsea looked as though she’d jumped in Lake Michigan with her clothes Kurtköy Escort on and hadn’t bother to jump back out. She was shivering from head to toe.

It took me some minutes before I dragged her and her stuff upstairs into my apartment. There wasn’t any place to put them, so the suitcases stood in the middle of the floor, basically blocking everything from everything and creating a huge fire hazard. “It’s pouring rain outside,” she squeaked. It was really starting to irritate me the way she pulled my thoughts right out of my head just so she could refute them. This girl was really beginning to get under my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me feel this way.

“If someone set the building on fire right now, we’d probably die because we can’t get out,” I huffed defensively. Chelsea began to undress in front of me, taking her wet clothes off one piece at a time. She was tugging clumsily at her green sweater, pulling it over her head; this exposed her perky breasts, nipples hardened as though they were standing at attention. “What the hell are you doing?” I squawked, turning around so that I couldn’t see her. “Use the bathroom there!” I pointed in a random direction.

“Why?” she asked simply. Why? Why should she change in the bathroom when there’s a stranger in the same room as her, who she’d only met a few hours ago and whose home she’d now managed to invade and have all the escape routes blocked off, and who was now…

“Because, dammit!” I said. The smell of wet clothes had filled the tiny room, and I wondered vaguely about the amount of pain it would cause me later by letting her stay. When I turned around, she’d put on a long ratty t-shirt and had climbed into my bed, rolling around in it like a mouse trying to make her new den comfortable. It took me a few seconds before I realized the shirt she was wearing was the one that Megan had given me for my birthday last year, which she liked to wear while prancing around my apartment with nothing else on. I shouted at her to take it off, and she complied, lifting it up and over her belly to expose her naked sex. “Ah fuck, nevermind, just keep it on.” With that, she pulled the shirt over her legs again, and promptly fell asleep.

“Fuck,” I muttered, shaking my head.


Megan pressed her mouth onto the tip of my penis, teasing me with those delicious, wet lips. She moved her head up and down, opening her mouth occasionally to flick at my perineum, making me buck and moan in pleasure. Her mouth was like heaven when she took me inside her, wetting my cock with her saliva. I was on fire. I was shaking. I felt like I could die at this moment, content to forget the rest of the world. But Megan wasn’t finished with me. She raked her nails against the skin of my stomach, leaving long red marks there; the feeling of the tickling pain made me buck my hips up, and I pushed her head down to get deeper down her throat. Slowly, the soft insides of her throat opened up to me, and she had her face right up to the base of my shaft, churning and rolling her tongue at the same time, driving me into a sexual frenzy. I felt my balls tighten, and my cock spasmed once before she stopped moving altogether, just stayed there with my cock in her mouth. I wanted to cum so badly, but Megan wouldn’t move, and she kept me on the verge of an orgasm for two minutes. When I tried to move, she moved with me, not allowing any further friction, and I groaned and ran my hands through her hair, begging her to keep going. Megan loved to tease me this way, making me wait, controlling all of me, even my orgasm, until she wanted me to have one. Finally, she pulled back, letting me slip out of her mouth, my rock hard member dripping with saliva. She flashed a smile at me, and that was when I opened my eyes.

I was in my bed encompassed in an oppressive darkness. The smell of sweat-soaked sheets filled my nose, intoxicating me for a moment, reminding me of Megan. I felt a pair of hands run up my legs, a wet body sliding up my body until my mouth was met with a pair of sweet tasting lips. I opened my mouth instinctively, kissing and caressing the body above me. My hand ran up against the side of a bony ribcage, sticky as though the person had been standing in the rain for a long time.


Abruptly, I tried to push her off me, but she was strong, much stronger than her tiny frame suggested, and she took my hands in hers, lacing her fingers into mine to stop me. There was a movement, then I felt the head of my cock slip inside of her slick pussy. She began to bounce up and down as she straddled me, each time pushing herself further down onto my cock until her vaginal walls Maltepe Escort loosened enough to accommodate me. It was the tightest feeling I’d ever felt, almost painfully so, but she didn’t seem to care as she ground her hips into me, riding my dick in the cowgirl position and emitting little squeals of pleasure. Chelsea pushed her knees into my sides to keep me from moving; I was still struggling to buck her off, but she merely used my movements to fuck me harder. Even though I tried hard to resist, in the back of my mind was the primal desire to keep going, to let myself go and allow my body to enjoy this wonderful sensation. I tried to remind myself that she wasn’t Megan, but my dick was a traitor, and within a minute, I felt my balls tighten again to shoot my load inside of her as I came with a low groan. I heard Chelsea squeal above me a few seconds later, feeling the walls of her pussy constricting my cock as though it was trying to cut the flow of blood off. She fell down against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, feeling every part of her, the hardness of her nipples against me, the rise and fall of her chest, her hands as they ran through my damp hair.

We laid there for a long time until I became soft inside her and the gentle rhythm of our breathing synchronised to become one and the same. She was the first to speak. “Forget about her,” she whispered into my ear as she gently ran her tongue up and down the sensitive spot behind my ear. I shifted my hips, trying to push her off again, hating the way she could hear my thoughts, hating it all the more because I wished I hadn’t been thinking about Megan.

“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” I yelled, struggling to pull myself up, to get away from the feeling of security that was washing over me as Chelsea held me in her arms. “I don’t deserve to! It’s my fault, okay? It was my own goddamn fault, and I should have done more to hold on to her, I should have appreciated her while she was still around! Is that what you wanted to hear? I can’t fucking…” Tears leaked involuntarily from my eyes, and in the darkness, I could see Chelsea’s eyes squint down at me, her face scrunched up with an unreadable expression.

“Stop blaming yourself,” she commanded, waving a pointy finger in front of my face. The sternness of her voice gave me pause, and I stopped my crying, wiping my eyes with my forearm. “It is your fault, but you are going to let it go. You will find someone the same but different, and in time you will forget you ever knew her. Her face will become just a blur in your memory, and you won’t even remember her name. That is the way the world works. Know that I am speaking the truth.” And in that moment, I knew she was right; I nodded to indicate that I understood what she was saying.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I am Chelsea. I am a girl, like any other. I am that girl you see on the street, the one you pass by a hundred times but never recognise. I am who I am.” She paused sagely. “Also, I am a Gypsy.” She held something in her hand; it glinted softly against a dim light filtering through my windows, cast somewhere from down the street. Chelsea looped it around my head, and I felt the touch of something cold on my chest. “This is a lucky charm that I forged with my own two hands in the furnace of my father’s metalwork shop. It is a coin that represents new beginnings, of rejuvenation and rebirth. I bestow this token upon you.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, and also because I feared that she was being serious.

She held my gaze for a moment. “I found it at a second hand store,” she finally admitted. “But that’s what the owner of the store told me. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It will help you.”

“Are you really a Gypsy?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes. Now stop talking so we can fuck.”

Chelsea began to move her hips.


The rain had stopped.

When I woke up the next day, I found my apartment devoid of suitcases, wet clothes, or any tiny, owlish girls. I felt the pang of loss once more, but somehow, it felt as though it might be bearable for once. The burden in my chest was no longer there; Chelsea, with her body and her words, had dispelled the numbing pain that had been eating away at my soul, an imperceptible gradualness that was killing me from the inside out. My world was right-side-up once more. How much I’d wished she was still there that morning – her tiny body beside mine, her gentle caress guiding me like she had all through the night, her handsome squint. I realize now that if she had stayed, our moment would have been tainted, but right then, I would have given anything to have her here.

The coin Chelsea had given me was still around my neck. Megan’s t-shirt was gone, and in place of it there was a note on my desk.

The note read:

Your talisman for my talisman. Fair trade.


I had found and lost the love of my life.

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