Short Story: The Silence

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My legs are folded under me as I sit at the window seat near my balcony. A cup of tea resting in the palm of my hands. Remnants of its flavor coat my tongue. The sun creeps its way from the horizon to fill the sky with shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. A soft sigh escaped my lips as the room filled with light.

A brown ball of furr strutted its way across the room and leapt onto the seat. Its body rubbed against my knees begging for attention. My hand felt heavy as I lifted to stroke her behind the ears. I guess this sated her because she became distracted by the ball of yarn in the corner.

In these moments, the condo felt even more empty. High ceilings and bookshelves greeted me. My personal artwork hung on the wall as a testimony to the success in my life. Comfy chairs and a massive couch sat in front of a 42” TV. A wine glass rested on the coffee table from last night’s dinner.

My body creaked as I unwound myself. Sitting in a place for too long does that. On my way to the kitchen I grabbed the glass and took it with me. The hardwood floor chilled my bare feet.

Dumping the glass in the dishwasher, I poured myself a new cup of tea. Steam rose and caressed my face. The light was just now making its way in there. Leaning back against the black, graphite counter my eyes defocused and my mind went to you.

Do you miss me? Do you think of me? Do you worry about me? Do you smile at the happy times? Do you catch yourself laughing at a joke I once told? Do you stop yourself from reaching for the phone to dial my number? Do you imagine me sitting next to you as you complete the edits on a new manuscript? Do you caress the frame of the painting I gave you? Do your toes curl when you remember the way I make you orgasm? Or the way my tongue fit perfectly in your mouth?

All these years and I still think about you. All these years and I still wish we had taken a new path; we had decided to fight instead of giving up.

Instead here I am alone with my memories. Here I am sipping your favorite tea out of your favorite mug in your favorite shirt. Here I find my eyes wet with tears because you chose her. Here I am.

And then the phone rings.

*I’m going to start writing short scenes like this every so often. These words are my own and they belong to me.*

Later,

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