Shorts (2)

“Then, what’s about it?”


She is fully aware that the sentence “I love you” is a fake.

Like a disguise of something worse.

She’s been walking home fast. As fast as she can. If she stops, she’ll think. Only God knows what she might think. Unlike her, she does think like everyone thinks. Even about death, cause that’s a hot topic.

 

It was a sign of relieve as she came home and no one was there. Today she knew that the other one would not come home. Or might be never. But she didn’t care. Or did she?


A ring. It’s not from the door, it’s her cell phone. She quickly baffles her handbag just to reach for the end of that ring. She sees who’s on the call. It’s not her. Good. Because if it is her, she will have to wait for three seconds more.

It’s Nancy.

“Hey, what’ sup…”, she answered the call.

“Sorry, wrong number. I remember I didn’t dial for a dead cat. Or rather, even worse, a dead cat who is not ready dead yet but trying to sound like he’s full of enthusiasms.”

“Sorry, you know me, boss.”, as she relieves and slowly lays her entire body on the nearest couch.


“So, I would guess for a no of this tonight party, again, as always. But hey tonight we going to have a nice rapper holding the open hipster ‘ceremony’! But then, you say “you are too old for that”.”

“…”

“Ha don’t worry I come back your place latter unless you would have a business with ‘someone’.”

“Actually, I will go to that party.”

“WHAT you like rap music? That’s new.”

“Whatever, you pick me up at 8 so stick that to your head.”

“gotcha captain.”

The phone beeped.


She frequently checks her phone. She’s waiting.

“Hey girl”

“Hey. Where we heading”

“Parrots. I thought you’d know that’s your favorite sp-“

“What! You should have told me!”

“huh what for? There’s no second chance that rapper going to land on here this goofy town.”

“… whatever”

“Hey, I’d rather not going with a growling cat yo.”

“Just go.”

“yes, girl. To the BLAST.”

 


The streetlight is unusually quiet. She stands there. It would be an aesthetic scene if she’s now standing here with a cigarette on hand. But she doesn’t smoke. Yet she knows more than anyone how cigarette smells like. It is a common smell coming from her balcony, in the late evening. It was. When she’s pretending to be asleep.

 

“Shit.” She drops a word. And like every sound happens in this hour, it soon vanishes into the hollow darkness, into where human senses would dissolve into nothingness.

“I’m surprised.” Said Nancy, who comes out of nowhere.

“what.”

“It’s been three years. Of you ditching me out on every Friday night.”

“Haha, sorry.”

“I mean, I would feel happy if you do this again. But not like this. You know what I mean, right? So now I’ll be leaving. Take my keys. I will do what you did last time. But better.” She winked.

Then the girl disappeared behind the door curtain, where the club no longer serves drumming hell, rather, dreamy jazz for who wants to take back a look for a longing partner.

It’s Jimmies’ remix.


She quickly inputs the car keys. Then for a second, she stops.

The thought also quickly floods in.

“oh no no no no.”

She hurries to charge up the keys. But then as if the night wants her to stay, the car stops. The thought of her floods quickly into her mind.

“whatever I do, I keep thinking about it. Goddammit.”


Actually, it is not it. It is her. She knows that. So well. So much that she doesn’t even bother of labeling the name. Labeling the relationship.

I mean, what does she know about her anyway? Besides the fact that she already has a person in mind. A person who is not her.

A person that might know the smell of cigarette better than her.

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