Yep, another damn repost. And you thought I was beyond this sort of thing.
Well, I most certainly was not.
Anyway, I like this entry, from almost two years ago.
the ghost of friendship past
There is nothing to see.
There is nothing to hear.
It is, as it always is, much more subtle than those glaring things would be.
A chill runs down my spine, and then it takes the seat next to me.
And, somehow, it warms me.
"Did you miss me?" she asks.
I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time. I let it out ever so slowly.
This is a game, a game that we always play.
She asks me the question, and she waits for an answer even though she knows the answer; even though I've answered the same way each and every time.
I take a sip of my beer. I swirl it around it my mouth. I savor it.
She's waited long enough.
"Only when I breathe," I say.
I dare not look at her. I need not look at her. I know what she's doing.
She smiles, like she always does.
Then she frowns, like she always does.
She doesn't know how to respond.
I win again.
Wonderful eternities pass.
"This was nice," she says.
"I think so too," I reply.
"I'm so glad you were here," she says.
My eyes roll back. I recognize this, another game that we play.
"Where else would I be?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
She ignores my question.
She is uncomfortable, unsure, insecure.
"I might be back in a couple of days," she offers.
"I'll be here," I say, just like I always say.
"I don't know exactly when I'll be back," she says.
I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time.
I take a sip from my beer. I swirl it around in my mouth. I savor it.
"I'll wait for you," I say. "As long at it takes."
She wins again.