the morning after….

The morning after…

She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. Or she could. Physically. She remembered the actual events from the previous night. But she couldn’t remember what her train of thought had been. How had this seemed like a good idea?

He was still sleeping. He was still pretty, even in the harsh light of the morning breaking through the blinds. The candles from the previous night stood on his bedside table. A picture lay face-down next to the candles and the cd player. The scene seemed familiar somehow. The explanation she would have to do later. She sat up. He didn’t move. Her eyes travelled upwards to the picture frame hanging on his wall. He couldn’t hide this one as easily as the one on the nightstand.

The girl was prettier than she’d imagined in her mind. Maybe she just wanted her to be ugly. Not that he seemed like the kind of guy who would have an ugly girlfriend. She didn’t really feel jealous. She looked at the picture again. Nor did she feel guilty. She wondered if she felt anything at all. Except the need to go home. Immediately. She picked up her phone and texted her friend.


Two nights ago….

It always happened quickly. Life was ironic that way. How this handsome, stranger ended up next to her. They had been talking for almost two hours and her friends were about to leave. She couldn’t recall what the conversation had been about. Just that it hadn’t been awkward. It seemed almost cliché. They way it happened in movies, or love-stories, or how people tell about their own romance, adding a tiny bit of the fiction in their minds. It was weird for her.

“So we decided not to kiss?” she said

“Yes” he smiled

“Because you have a girlfriend” she said “And I have a boyfriend”

“No “ he said “Because it would make it cheap. Because this is more than physical attraction”

She still couldn’t decide whether he was really real, or just really smoothe. For now she would believe he was smoothe. She didn’t have anything else to go on.

“Are you coming with?” her friend asked, standing above her. She looked up. “Yes, let’s go dancing”

She waited for him to answer. To see if he wanted to go with. Wanted to spend more time with her.

“Listen” he took her by the elbow, looking at her intently, like he had been the whole night. He seemed so intense. She wondered again about his sincerity. He was beginning to sway her. “I want to spend more time with you, but I don’t want to go dancing” he said.

She just looked at him. She had a sudden urge to touch his face. Trace the outline of his smile with her finger. She resisted the urge.

“We can go and have coffee at my place” she said

“Or mine” he said

“No” she replied “My friends will wonder where I am. My place” she insisted.

Her friend hugged her goodbye and whispered a “Be careful” in her ear.


Later she would think that meeting him almost felt like coming alive. Like a breath of fresh air. Like coming up from the darkness. Again, she hated the idealistic school of thought behind it. She didn’t believe in these things anyway. But she couldn’t deny that she suddenly felt more alive than she had in months. She felt like she could finally breathe.



1 Response to “the morning after….”

  1. 1 kaleidoscopeofcrazy November 3, 2010 om 9:50 nm

    Wow. I read this and was so taken aback by the parallel to something of mine a while ago. And yes, you do feel like you can finally breathe. But unfortunately nothing lasts forever.

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