laurah
He thought he could simply brush her off, tell her that it wasn't like it used to be, and she would crash out of his life the way she had crashed into it. But it would never be like that. She knew the secret weapon, the sure fire way to capture his soul all over again. After a mischevious glint into the mirror, she donned the black stiletto shoes and clip-clopped to his office. Just the sound alone almost brought him to his knees. And once she'd turned the corner and gazed at him in the way that only she, really, did, he knew he wouldn't be letting her go again.
Maisie had a dream catcher above her bed, it was the therapist's idea. For six years old her dreams were fairly complex, sophisticated even, but always with an evil finale that far outstretched the most sinister horror films.
Drifting! That's the word. She couldn't remember it last night, as she explained to Alice. She would kick herself now, it had been on the tip of her tongue and had kept her awake for an hour. She'd been drifting for her whole life, collecting no loved ones, amassing no fantastical moments. It was always just her; silly Sylvia, with her ice-cream hair and meek smile.
And there it was. Her ugly temper, gnarling her face into an angry knot. She fired hideous words, each deliberately designed to make him sting, and open fresh wounds. She said she'd sleep on the sofa, that he made her sick, she didn't love him any more. And there they were. The tears. Because it was too late, she couldn't take it back. And not a single word was true.
The pattern emerged as the last piece of the jigsaw, the final clue, smoothly slotted into place. Her entire body trembled, violently, as she understood what was happening. She snatched the phone from his cold, dead hands and clumsily pressed the buttons. The horror of the ringing and ringing at the other end brought hot bile to the back of the throat. She wouldn't be able to reach her in time. That's when the tears fell, loud noisy sobs, splashing on to his navy jacket, staining this memory forever more. She clutched at her hair, willing a voice to answer the phone, but she knew it was too late. Another fatality to add to the growing list of connected names.
She was a professional; all legs and teeth. She laughed when he wasn't funny, didn't slap his sweaty face when he touched her ass and smiled throughout the dull evening at his tedious conference. He wished his wife was more like her.
He said he should shower, he was sweaty from the gym, but she couldn't wait. She had him on the welcome mat.
The sea of orange lanterns flew through the sky like bubbles blown by a child. I watched them all, until the last one was too far away to glimpse. They snaked around houses, had near misses with trees and managed to get away, high into the night air. It was a beautiful sight and an even more beautiful notion. It just wouldn't bring him back, would it?
She was bored of everything but mainly herself. She longed for something 'wow' to happen, to break her routine and give her a thrill. So she circled the advertisement in the paper and went online. She typed her name into a stripper name generator and Sapphire Spankwhip it was. Her new life.
The crescent moon, Jupiter and Venus all in a row in the beautiful black sky. So bright and breathtaking, she realised that she was simply a speck of dust on this earth, no more, and resolved to stop becoming involved with the mere trivia of life. It was about time she helped all the petty, inconsequential factors fade away. This was good for her. She smiled a real smile for the first time in years.
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