Chapter 6

At some stage, his longing for her, his desire to remain relevant in her life had surpassed his original feelings. He no longer cared about 'them,' about cultivating a unison that would see them transcend their habitual lives and surroundings. He no longer valued the art of nurturing feelings and developing memories, nor did he value love and the joys it brings, about the pleasure possible when the right lives intertwine at the right time, he was only interested in maintaining a shred of importance, he only cared for relevance, to be able to project his neediness someplace other than nowhere. What started out as a love, an unbridled fusion of feelings and foresight had morphed into obsession.

For the first time, he felt her hatred for him. In her eyes, he saw a level of loathing he never thought possible. With that look, at that moment, he understood her cold demeanor, her monotone greetings and effortless sex, for she was void of all feelings. Her actions had been lead by misplaced obligations and interests were feigned as a pleasantry.

In his mind, the last 18 months suddenly burst into a concerto of clarity. He was able to see himself through her eyes, his pitiful, needy adult self, unable to read signs, unable to comprehend when a relationship had soured. Yes, he was the reason for their displeasure, for the months of repressed comments and awkward silences, he was the perpetrator of a murder most foul.

**

She never returned any of his calls after that night, instead, she sent him a text several days later which read:

'I'm staying in a hotel for a week. Be gone when I'm back.'

**

8 months had passed when he found himself again walking along that road. It all seemed too familiar, the houses, the smells, the lives of others. He peered past her curtains, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her. But what for? To try and talk her into some kind of re-run of their relationship? Or worse? Maybe a night of halfhearted for old times sake fondle between the sheets that would only serve as a reminder of his past failings? 'No,' he whispered to himself, crouching down in front of the window, wringing his in despair.

She had probably grown, met a worthy suitor, and he would appear to be nothing more than a forlorn man, still unable to grasp the beginnings and ends that love and life offer. He glared at the familiar contents of the room through the window. Maybe she hadn't changed, maybe she too missed him. Maybe she sat alone at nights, self-esteem ravaged, replaying the epic in its entirety in her mind, all the while craving for the stale comfort that comes from being in a loveless relationship, maybe she needed him. Maybe...All this and more ran through his mind, but in the end, he said "sod it, I'm going home."

And with that, he turned his back on the past and the present and walked, alone into tomorrow, camouflaged in the counterfeit tranquility that the city at night offers.

END