"WAKE UP!” implored the man in the mirror, on the door, beside the head of the bed.
Wake up....
Wake up....
Wake up...
Like a voice from beyond, the words echoed in his mind, above the alcohol induced din from the night before. Yet, to the voice’s origin he was oblivious. Sleep in his eye and yet another stranger beside him; he lay motionless as he pondered his next predictable move. Slowly, he slipped and slithered his arm from beneath last night's lust and waited quietly, to see if she would wake.
Last night's lust lay motionless, pretending to sleep; knowing that waking up would only delay his next predictable move. She knew she would never see him again and the prospect of an awkward "Good morning" would only thicken an atmosphere that was already heavy with the musky soured smell of cheap wine and tawdry sex. So she rolled over in her false slumber, allowing him to find the freedom to enable his clever escape.
A slight smirk briefly crossed his lips as he momentarily mused upon his stealth while he slipped from the bed and into his tired jeans. He grabbed his shoes, his shirt and nodded vague recognition to the man in the mirror as he slid cautiously through the open door. While hastily pulling his shirt over his head, he stepped into his shoes without regard for the laces and scanned the meticulously ordered room for his jacket.
As the sound of the apartment door creaked open and clasped shut, last night’s lust breathed a sigh of relief and muttered an unintelligible oath to a god she swore did not exist. Lying in her bed she rationalized events, vaguely remembered, yet all too familiar; eventually allowing her mind to roam, jaded, amongst little girl fantasies of princes and posies.
He stepped outside, feeling the cold yet liberating wind smacker against his cheek. Pausing a moment, he inhaled his recently won freedom and threw on his jacket, adjusting the worn leather collar accordingly. Casually pulling a cigarette from the inside pocket, he glanced both ways down the street as he lit, savoring his first drag of the morning. Warm and embracing, the smoke whispered self assurance into his lungs. Unsure of where he was, he planted the cigarette in his lips, inhaled deeply and turned left. He accepted his choice, confident it would lead him to the place he most wanted to be; anywhere but here. |
Submission Name: The Morning After
