She lit another cigarette. With another smoky exhale, it was affirmative. She had made up her mind. She was going to leave him. Somehow that notion made her smile. To immerse herself in the fancy idea of being in love was a lost cause. But damn, was it a guilty pleasure or what? This bond that they shared was lovely. Like most things that impart pleasure, this was strong and effective yet short-lived and volatile. I guess the realization that they needed not to extract something exquisite out of this, made it what it was.
The mortality of everyone and everything associated with everyone invoked a pragmatic cynicism in her. Of course she desired things that had stereotypically been associated with “girly notions”. The last time she checked, her lady-parts were intact. What was the use of suppressing her socio-psychological femininity, anyway? As she exhaled the last bit of grey dust from her poisoned lungs, she smothered the remaining of the consumed cigarette in the ashtray.
She looked at herself in the tainted mirror and pouted her full lips as she painted them in crimson. She rarely yet occasionally beautified herself in a manner that would, by conventional means, give an alluring impression of sexual attraction. Yet when she did, she made sure no stone was left unturned. Hence, the black, slightly revealing velvet dress and the leather jacket which was somewhere in between what a rockstar-wanna-be and a sophisticated artist would opt for. She tousled her hair carelessly as she grabbed her purse and car keys. She stole a final glance at the mirror and smiled, satisfyingly. When a tragedy is inevitable, one might as well put up a show to remember and beauty has the power to paralyze the pain as it diverts your mind. That was the weapon she was going to use tonight. Words had become a weary old tactic.
Driving through the brightly-lit city this evening, she created an air of detachment. Her focus was on the escape to freedom she had been craving and striving for so long. It was finally so near, so close. But what was this curve that crept around the corner of her lips? A frown? She felt a dagger icily pierce through her shell. Why did his world have to be so different? She shook the thought and blinked away the pre-mature tears. She consoled herself with the words of Oscar Wilde that women ruin romance by trying to make it last forever. She snickered and took a deep breath. She had no time for this shit.
She parked her car in the driveway of some forgettable fancy place to dine and made her way inside. Her eyes patiently sifted through the crowd, casually greeting a few familiar faces and acknowledging a few acquaintances. She found it absolutely irrelevant that many pairs of eyes were attentively, even curiously, fixed on her. This bored her as the only pair of eyes she was concerned with was her own, as they began to impatiently wander around the hall.
Her hands were cold and her face was warm, nothing unusual yet it irritated her. Her eyes had stopped waltzing as they lit up and admired the view. He was ordinary by all means yet exquisite in his own way. He stood there, unaware of her presence. She felt the dagger inside her shift uneasily because she knew he would always be who he was right in this moment. For when you love someone for who they are, change is unnecessary. They already possess the qualities that need no amendments. Any change whatsoever would turn him into someone who he was not but who she wanted him to be. That is why she was leaving him. They were parallel, by each others side, yet their paths did not cross. He was not meant to change his course of life for her, regardless her selfish desire for him to be so.
Then the moment she dreaded now dawned on her. His eyes met hers and within a time frame enough for a single breath to be taken away, she saw the “look”. It was the look she first noticed almost year ago. It was what ladies devour their hearts on. Yet for her, the timing could not have been more terrible. For it was the look of a man who has surrendered his heart yet refused to leave the fort he has built for himself. But the fort failed to conceal what his eyes made so obvious. She loved him, but he was in love with her. So she smiled, made her way towards him without losing eye contact and stood beside him. They did not exchange a single word. She silently slipped her hand in his and felt the warmth radiate in her existence. One might as well bask in the sun before the dark night engulfs the sunshine in its dark, black hole of infinity.