It's a hazy evening, and everything is super saturated, I'm looking through slats and everything is a warm blur of static and stuff. In walks this girl I'd met, lived with and married a hundred times; Each time a to a different occasion and theme.
I try really hard to be funny and weird and all the things that people have gerenrally thought were attractive about me, but her interest is waining. I'm grasping at straws and am not really happy with how it's all working out.
In the evening I sit down to watch a movie I'd never seen before, but have somehow lived through a few hundred times in a tiny spot of my subconcience. It's hard to sit through, I don't really know how to feel so I clasp at a few familiar things on my desk; a keyboard; a browser window; an icon; the smooth edges of my Wacom tablet.
I think there'd been a moment, when she'd lent her shoulder into my stomach and looked up into me. And drunkadly I'd stared straight back down and slurred some less than remarkable reply. Something registers that this uncomfort will probably go down in my memory for the rest of a little while.
She gets up to leave as the heavy velvet curtains begin to close.
I grin, and wave a cheery wave until she's out of sight.
Then, plunging back into a velvety sleep, we're together again,
wishing that life hadn't had disturbed us in the first place.
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