Life’s a stage.

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The routine is about the same.

We sleep facing opposite sides; our backs more intimate with the gaping space on the bed. Tumbled sheets are still and as the darkest hour arrives, we sleep through drunken stupor and once-white dreams. The morning light slowly begins to steal yesterday night’s escapes but do we care? No, after all, reality beckons and we will eventually morph into two individuals who have gotten what they came for.

You give me a lopsided smile in the morning, asks if I was hungry, as if the triumph of yesterday has already been added into your list. I play along and say yes; you win only your inflated ego after all and I am more worried about my inability to – well, a lot of things. I take a shower again; yesterday night’s sleep gets to me and I lose my concentration deciding the wrongs and rights. As I wash away yesterday’s impulses, I think about how similar different individuals are. The white-washed words of sweetness belly a reluctant to commit and settle down. Yet.

I munch on the breakfast you cooked. You fuzz over me – ask if i would like more of this or that. Some girls would find this endearing but I shrug it off without a thought because you aren’t cooking for me. As you sit across me and ask me idle questions of what my plans are for today, I sigh internally. We play pretend that this is normal, that we are not two individuals with commitment issues and selfish agendas. I lightly touch your arms and talk about the good dinner (which you paid for), the good conversation and the good after-drinks (which I paid for) we had. Everything is good, my vocabulary is limited and bland – you were and probably are a good man.

But good is not enough in my life. I need more yet for now I continue this game which will end in approximately 10 minutes. I don my jacket and slip on my pumps. I turn around, smile and you look as though you don’t want me to leave. I see through your body language and know you are eager to start a day without me. We say our goodbyes, promise to keep in touch but we both know when the door closes, we will shift into another worthless encounter where we will be unable to recognise each other’s faces or names in the crowd.

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