A fictional tale

I closed the door behind me, shutting out my day. I dropped my bag, stepped out of my 3 inch red Manolo blahnik's right there were I stood while pulling out the pin that collected my hair at the base of my neck. I ran one tired hand through the tressles while the other began unbuttoning the pin stripped blazer that confined my upper anatomy. Turning I faced my empty apartment, quiet and unchanged since I left 10 hours ago for work. I took one hosiered step and slide just a little across the mahogany colored hardwood which brings a small reactive smile to my lips. A foreign position for my face to take these days. Leaving my crumpled jacket atop my bag I walk towards the kitchen for my customary Or.eo fix. The immaculate living room beckons my company for a spell, but I cannot be deterred from my destination. My overworked hand lightly pushes the wood encased swing glass door and it yields to the invasion offering an opening for my entry. There I see my house phone screaming in her illuminating fashion that I was missed. I ignore her noise and walk straight to where my emotional salvation lies. I open the cupboard, reach in to find the box of 'america's favorite cookies'. My fingers finally grasp the illusive pleasure and I lift, finding that her frame was lighter than when we last had an encounter. Dangerously so. I need to make a stop at the store tomorrow before I run out the only allowable thought that surfaces to my conscience mind since I walked into this space. This space that used to be shared by he and I....I pull back the top cover that encases my greatest comfort and I see that thankfully, I have the two that are required to provide me a sense of peace. I remove them from their cradled existence and place them delicately in my weary hands as I toss the casing into the trash. I walk over to the stainless steel refrigerator and yank harder than I intended. The door over extends and causes a sharp reaction from my shoulder. Unapologetic, the door swings back to a comfortable stance and ignores any thumps from my anatomy. I swoop down just a bit and take in the contents. Half a gallon of orange juice, left over chinese that was probably too old to be in there, sweet tea from the local grocery store, and la piece de resistance- a tall gallon of milk. As I'm about to reach in, I hear a knock at the door. Furrowed brow, I stop and listen. Nothing. Shaking my head, I reach in grabbing the milk and just as I place it on the center island, I hear the knock again. Who in da...I look down at the message alert and wonder if mystery guest had been the person who had disturbed the peace of my usually quiet answering machine. I maintained the furrowed brow while walking back through the elements of my newly acquired solitude, my apartment. I pull the door open, and caught a vision that I had been trying to forget since it last crossed this threshold.

'Can we talk?' Oh that voice. I had tried to forget it, but the bumps and grooves of it's vibration left predictable messages on my spine, and i felt it settle itself there like always.

'What's left to say?' His eyes were the only elements of his stoic face to carry a reaction. Flames of frustration smoked into billowing clouds of sadness and regret. He did not move from where he stood and he waited. I dropped my hand from the door and took one step back into my place of solitude, serenity, and safety. He paused slightly before walking across the line which separated his current with his past, but committed to the motion and planted his foot firmly into what he had once known as life. And as his step brought him closer to me, his eyes contacted mine and it was in that moment that I was transported to all the reasons why I loved this man so damn much.... as well as to all the reason why he hurt me in just the same way....