A story by Priscilla aka Pretty Prissy
I wake up to an already dawned morning. The sun is out, the birds must be on their second album and the worms, well the smart ones are waking up now. The view from his glass walled apartment is magnificent. He must have paid handsomely for the air rights. The city at a distance appears to be floating on the beautiful lake. Despite the countless times that I have seen this view, my breathe is always taken away.
Speaking of handsome, I turn to see if he is up. My smile quickly turns into a frown. He always does this, especially of late. I feel sad but I don’t want this to turn my mood around. I had an amazing night. Such nights had become rare and sparsely dispersed. When they happened I held on to the happy, spilt it over to the next day and well I forced the spillage through the week and the next- a girl had to do what she had to do to. I had learnt from when I was young that ain’t no makeup prettier than a smile even if it meant having a plastered one.
I stay in bed longer, enjoying the feel of the satin sheets on my glowing skin and the view. The silence awakens my thoughts and deep down my happiness slowly starts fading as an all too familiar emotion takes over. I stay there longer unaware of my surroundings. My heart had become a battlefield of emotions: rage, love, passion, hate, and sadness, name it all and my body played second fiddle to the winner. I swallow hard and push my thoughts at the back of my mind and decide to get out of bed. My smile comes back as memories of LUST night play in my head. I grab my silk robe from the floor and slip it on as I walk down the hall way (he must have cleared the trail of clothes) into the kitchen.
The whole house is seemingly too quiet, I think to myself. The living room is empty and he’s not in the kitchen either. I don’t worry much. I had already gotten used to his disappearing acts. On the counter, I find a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk beside it. My smile creases. This is sweet but odd. I’m not used to him being nice, even when he needed a favor. He always acted as if I owed him one. My mind tells me that there must be something wrong or I woke up in the wrong house.
Choosing to ignore the odds of the morning, or is it noon? I turn the radio on and sit on the counter as I eat. Just as I’m about to finish, he enters the kitchen. His eyes are dark and his palm is fisted. “Oh no! Not today!” I whisper to myself.
I stay on the countertop petrified. Although this had happened countess times, the effects of his dark eyes were ever same. As I breathe hard, I choke on air and cough. He was now walking towards me and my heart pulsated faster. He read every expression on my face and at the display of fear he smiled. He always did this. It made him happy seeing me afraid of him.