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Don’t you wish…

11 (1)

 

Lying in bed, she held the phone close to her ear, trying to carve in her mind each and every word he spoke, knowing they’d most probably be the last he would grant her. She was not quite past the shock of coming back to an empty house yet, but she now managed to hold her emotions in, as he talked with a mundane tone that troubled her.

He was gone for good, gone with all that belonged to him. She wished he had left a t-shirt lying somewhere, that she could wear at night to fall asleep to his comforting smell…

She wished she had something to keep him close. But his neutral voice was a clear warning that he had already shut her out of his life, and she wouldn’t insist childishly.

Her last hope was that he wouldn’t move too far, and forget her completely. She hoped he would take a sweet memory of her with him, and not remember her by her flaws. But she had no control over that either….

– Don’t you wish I hadn’t found you, now?

She would have listened to him telling her everything that was wrong about her, just to hear that voice that had soothed her sorrows on so many occasions over the years… She kept a sob from making its way up her aching throat, and pulled all her courage, to speak without shaking…

No. I am still glad you did… I just wish you had found me before…

Silent tears burnt their way down her cheeks, as she kept listening to his last goodbyes.

 

11 thoughts on “Don’t you wish…

  1. As usual …. an alternative view ….

    She lay comfortably in bed with the phone casually brushing her ear and waiting for that delicious moment when she might choose to hang up and leave him speaking alone into the void. And leave him wondering what might have been. Forever.

    His tattered t-shirt lay on the carpet where he had left it and, even from that distance, the odour that she had permitted to invade her life still lingered in the room. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow she would be cleansed of it all. For he was gone. And with him the negativity and the pain and the tears and the pointlessness.

    “Aren’t you happy, at least, that you met me?” he asked

    “I would be happier,” she replied, “if I had met Satan. At least he might have been fun.”

    He was sobbing now, and she took guilty pleasure in imagining him standing there in his cold lonely apartment with tears running down his unshaven cheeks.

    “If only I could meet you again,” he pleaded, “if only we could start from the beginning. If only …..”

    She was becoming bored. She hung up the phone before he could say goodbye.

    Liked by 1 person

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