Friday, April 06, 2012
there's sorrow in here eyes
There's a sorrow in her eyes, a wrinkle in her breath. And an almost contempt arises from the air surrounding her. " Its cold in here". She says as she huddles across from me. Drinking hot water with a touch of lemon, she carefully presses the cup against her lips in preparation for the warming sensation that arises gently there after. " I guess". I mumble, pretending to look around for something, I don't know. The place is crowded, waitresses run back and forth stretching themselves out at every opportunity." Are you coming over afterwards". looking at me with confused eyes, and thinking about it for a second. She quickly responds." No, not today. I would much rather have a good nights sleep". I am never really sure what this means, as she has used this excuse times before. I give off a deep silent sigh, and relinquish the fact that this has been an ongoing problem as of late. Having left things unsaid, I know full well its part my fault. " You don't mind, do you?". " No, no, of course not. Why would I mind?". I can see our waiter off in the distance heading our way with arms full. I ordered the flat iron steak, she the garlic mashed potatoes with a mushroom chicken. Small talk ensues for the entirety of the rest of dinner. The waiter walks over takes the empty plates as I ask for the check. Outside the rain comes down, making the city covered in a glossy sheen. Afterwards, Sitting in front of her house, she gathers her things in preparation." You sure you don't mind right?". I smile slightly while just outside the sidewalks are left empty, and her house is left black except for one lonely light left on in the basement obstructed by bushes and limped out flowers. " There's always next week". Knowing full well what's written in stone. Making my way home, the streets are dull. I light up a cigarette even though I quit over two years ago. " Its okay". I think to myself. " Every once in awhile won't hurt". Inside the house I turn on the lights, take off my shoes and jacket, and find myself at the couch, watching a bit of TV. I go over the conversation at dinner a few more times in my head, still not knowing the meaning of the words she happily committed to. I do this for about fifteen minutes not paying attention to what may be going on on the television. Deciding to end it at that though, I go to the fridge to make a vodka cran. People are but a funny, confusing bunch. Like a bee caught in a torrent of rain, thinking only of getting to cover at once, only later realizing who or what they may have left behind.