A fictional tale (pt. 2)

He walked into the living room and took in the foreign view of prestine floors and everything just so item placement.

'Wow. This place looks great. Definitely a change from when I took up every corner of this room with my clutter' a lopsided grin formulating on those smooth perfect lips whose touch had not been forgotten by my skin nerves that tingled at the sight of them. I didn't respond and headed back towards the kitchen to continue in my after work ritual. I felt his eyes follow, but he remained lodged in the comfort of the room he'd spent most of his time in. I walked over to the cupboard that hovered just above the island and pulled out a glass with the weary hand that had been taken too far and was now shaking. Placing it next to the milk, I stood staring at nothing in particular. Quickly I regrouped and decided to replace the milk thinkin not strong enough. I took the Armadale out of the freezer and began pouring with little intention of stopping. The other hand, still clutching the cookies, quickly traveled to my mouth and I popped in one delectable chocolate addiction. I closed my eyes and held it there for softening and savoring of the calming properties that this snack seemed to have. I chewed slowly while opening my eyes seeing that the glass was about to overflow.

'Shit,' I mumbled putting the bottle down heavily.

'Is everything ok?' filtered in from the other room.

Again, I did not respond to him and debated on chugging the entire glass. I need to get it together. I took out another glass and poured half of the contents of the initial glass into the second. I grabbed some ice and dropped them in the clear liquid, took a sip from both glasses followed by a deep breath, and walked back into the living room. I paused for a moment taking in the picture I had before me. He, sitting on the single seat that sat adjacent to the matching plush beige couch, was staring at the kitchen door that I now stood in front of. He was sitting forward, elbows on knees while his hands came together underneath his chin. I could see his jaw clenching repeatedly, a habit that I'd jokingly told him would ruined his enamel, cause him to get dentures, and lose his kissing privileges. I bit back the habit and just walked toward him enduring his unfaltering gaze. My heart, still not fully repaired from our last encounter, fluttered painfully as I offered him the glass. He took it without questioning its content and placed it soundly on the stainless steel framed glass coffee table without drinking. I sat on the couch in the portion closest to him, bringing up my pinstripe slack covered legs into the indian style seating that I was infamous for. I took a deep slow sip, grasping the glass with one shaky hand and one cookie clenching hand to keep it steady. I looked straight ahead at the unlit fire place that no longer had photos adorning the mantle as I felt his eyes bore into me aggressively. He initiates

'How are you?' looking at me.

'Fine,' me looking at the wall.

'How's work going?' still looking at me.

'Good,' me looking down into my glass.

'Ummm, well, I guess you're finally living the way you wanted. Everything is in its place,' finally looking at something that is not me, as he glances around the room.

Silence. I slip my last Or.eo into my mouth and I caught his face soften at the sight of me indulging in my daily quotidian cookie intake.

'God I miss you.'

I closed my eyes to steal them against the tears that were fighting their way to the brim of my lower lid. One escaped, screaming at the sensation of free falling into my glass finally being muted by the union of salted water and alcoholic destruction. Still maintaining closed eyes, I brought the glass to my lips and took another deep swallow, almost emptying the glass. The lingering chocolate flavor attached itself to the newly flowing liquid and accompanied its descend down my throat causing heat from their electric connection. A description that I held for he and I as well.

'Baby…,' softly

'Baby… say something,' softer still

I'm not ready to see you, talk to you, be around you! Not yet… My mind was shouting, but my words whispered from me, 'Why did you come here?'

'Because you are all that I've been thinking of for the last 3 months since I left here. I pace like a fucking caged animal reliving those moments over and over again instead of sleeping at night. I can't even work. I took time off from the paper and told them I was doing some independent projects. The only time I've left my apartment is to get groceries, and come here to debate whether or not to knock. Today I finally did.'

I look at him then with naked eyes and he buckles at the strength of my glare that glistens with unshed tears. He looks away from me, burying his face inside his hands. Those hands that had brung me to climax through their craft of photography; that had cradled me gently as I eased off to sleep; that had cook, pretended to clean, and rub the aches of my day away. Those hands had once been what Or.eos had now become....my comfort.