The Guest Bedroom

She sat upsettingly in a slim chair with a finger wrapped around a cool mug handle. Surrounded by sparse furniture basked in yellow light from an old chain lamp, the room felt vast and lonely. The room had been used during his brief stay, an unmade bed and several open drawers; the only lasting evidence that anybody had been present. All else remained untouched in its antiquated state.

Mechanically raising the mug to her lips and then placing it back on the side table, each time stamping a wet ring only slightly off center from its original. The ceramic tapping in rhythm against the rich wood, its trivial echo fleeted into the narrow guest hallway.

She uncrossed her legs, revealing a small grass stain at the hem of her skirt. A quick, yet effortless rub of the fabric between her forefinger and thumb yielded only a slightly larger marking. Her pale legs exposed as she began to smooth the garment instinctively, as if to hide the stain again, its brief distraction unwelcome. Only wanting to relive the episode again in silence, she pulled the chain of the pewter lamp and painted the room with a blue-grey hue from the night sky.

The decision had been made instinctively for this life was all she knew. She would stay and he would not return for her, its finality still fresh and stinging like a deep paper cut. A summer affair without recourse had been the intention, you see, nobody gets hurt that way. His words meant nothing, his touch even less, until they no longer found her waist or ears in the safety of the guest bedroom. The rooms scant furnishings removing any cache for his presence to remain behind for her comfort. She was now alone in her contention, pulling the blanket from his bed to cover her knees.

A Saturday With Sam

Once again I am working the weekend alone, left only with the nagging thoughts of moving on and the silence of a large commercial space. Not exactly sure what it is in me that creates the desire to continually demolish my surroundings and rebuild them as if I were a seasonal bird. One tired of searching and reaching for a purposeful fulfillment in life that may never arrive. Plainly, I am neither lazy nor unmotivated, in fact, I believe myself to be quite passionate about things. Unfortunately, these passions never really translate into an actual occupation in which I find enjoyment.

Am I bored because I have woken up alone for so long, do I loathe technology? It certainly does not interest me outside the realm of personal use or gadgetry. Do I put too much stock in women or the never-ending pursuit for ideal love? Am I frustrated because I have found love and it is (or has been) unwanted? No clue; so I am back here again with questions. Namely, why does one perpetuate a stagnating passionless life without making the necessary changes, which may result in potential abounding happiness?

Routine, security, fear, obligations, boredom? All legitimate reasons for some, not I.

I want more, there has to be more! Or at least a residual muddy puddle from which I can drink more than you. Being content is a valueless option, one for everybody else, not the restless and venerable Samuel Welch. Of course, this is my inner-dialogue and I am sure you are thinking to yourself “Well, I am happy, this guy is just a miserable shit bag. Who is he to tell me I am not content?” You are mistaken; I am not unhappy or miserable, just curious, curious to find the thin edge of the crust.

“Take me teetering on the balls of my feet to where your beginning ends and my resolution is born, for it is there you shall find me grinning.” I say with false bravado.

So I leap and you stare at my footprints. I no longer want to help you and take your requests, the back of my jacket flailing against the hard cool wind as I fall forward. “Give me the beauty and marrow of life and keep the monotony for yourself!” I exclaim as my cheeks stretch to form the meridian between my ears. I question if you have leapt after me, but I cannot move my head to check, the parallel horizon expansive in my view. I like to think you have and can close our gap with the tilt of your body. Perhaps you even shouted, “Fare thee well, great heart!” before I left and it did not sound cheap coming from your lips. These thoughts fill my gut and lead me to believe that you and I are equals; my question does not apply to you.

The phone is ringing, but I am alone and flying. Nobody is around to see me quickly lift the receiver and place it back down; Sam is currently indisposed. I do not want your message; can’t you see my arms are spread? I squint hard in attempts to stay in my free fall but the moment has passed and I come tumbling back to work. I look up with a feeling that somebody is watching me, but nobody is there. The office has grown dark and the light from my monitor reflects off the large glass panel windows surrounding me. I refocus and stare blankly at my reflection, muttering inaudibly “God, this sucks.”

Love?

“You’re a real fuck up, you know that?” trailed from her waxy lips as she walked towards the door. I did know, but it wasn’t my fault; it was never my fault.

So I sat there, staring at nothing, dejected and annoyed with myself. Sitting so long my legs fell asleep from the chair and I began to imagine life without them. Pity me for I have no legs! Pile my excuses and failures on my crippled frame, say, how about a dollar? It is acceptable to drink when you are down and out, when you have no legs. Just a dollar, I mean three, I can get the cheap shit for three dollars, promise.

My eyes dry and fixated, finally blinking at the clink of melting ice jostling in a glass on my desk. I want to call and apologize, I want to tell her I love her, but I am too tired to care. Her unfinished cigarette by the cracked window, tentacles of white being pulled out into the humid air, living momentarily. She is already home and hating me, my touch was a mistake. Her face burning in fury, she looked absolutely beautiful.

A-Hole

I dug a hole because I wanted to see
If all that I owned was all that made me
So I turned out my pockets and loosened my watch
My grin was expanding along with my thoughts

I threw in my wallet and fancy new shoes
My keys were a burden, so I tossed those in too
I kicked off my socks, my toes in the dirt
Just me, these jeans, and a ratty old shirt.

The sun high above, the heat on my neck
Sweat through my hair, the air in my breast
I need not these things that I left in the hole
Feeling free as I laughed while watching them fall.