oh that girl
He should have met her earlier, back when women were not supposed to be complicated or pretty. Then maybe he could have given her a chance, let her sleep over instead of calling a cab. When they parted, he kissed her on the cheek, partly relieved it was all done with. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get to him, she did that quite well, it was the little things. That she liked garlic and left the scent in his mouth and skin. That sometimes she called him crying over something silly and he wanted to slap the tears out of her, duct tape her and leave her whining in a closet. Then, he would feel guilty and talk to her, tell her to calm down. Later when he kissed the girls he would like to wake up with, he could feel himself blowing garlic breath over their lips. It stuck to him like a curse. He grew afraid they would find out about her. Once, having had too much to drink, he had asked her if she would please take this poor man’s heart in her hands. The had laughed like two common lovers. Then, a minute later he vomited on her lap, then rolled half asleep to the floor.
Add comment November 14th, 2008