Bloom
The plants had died while we were carrying the boxes downstairs. The moving trucks were going to arrive any minute, and this was getting redundant. Bothering was out of question; bothering had left the chat months ago when his caress came less, and the nights got worse. He always let the plants die. He just shrugged and took a slice of pizza from the box on the floor in the middle of the living room. His disinterest in us was staring at me, like a cat staring at its’ prey. I mirrored his sign of indifference, went to the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. A blush rose to my cheeks. That stupid son of a bitch. My bed was disassembled, the mattress lying on the floor, and the headboard and bedstead leaning against the wall, like limp bodies on a slab. His socks were on the floor, brown scattered on the bottom. I picked one up and threw it out of the open window. The hot summer breeze tugged a strand of my hair behind my ear, a soft caress, long gone too soon. I laid down on the mattress and blew my bangs out of my face, staring at my thighs. The glimmer of sun nuzzled my nipples that were poking through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. My creamy olive skin tingled in longing for a delicate embrace, hand moving up further towards my crotch, reaching under my shorts and into my underwear. Brown hair in my eyes, the breeze brushing it away with a velvety stroke. I arched my back, touch me more, and the door flew open. Lightning in his eyes, he turned on his heel and left. I retracted my hand, and glanced longingly out of the window, come back to me.
I went after him, hands flew to the air, words loud and voices strong. He let the plants die. He left the socks on the floor. He didn’t touch me. Empty promises flew at me from his mouth, loving words that suffocated me in our small living room. I pointed at the dead plants. He flew his hands in the air and then-
Slamming of the front door, soft kisses far gone. As if glued to the floor, I felt paralyzed. Then my shoulders relaxed, my jaw unhinged, and the blush in my cheeks dissipated along with the hopes of a future with him.
I took the beer out of the fridge and cracked it open with my lighter. I took a swig of the plush beverage and went downstairs, one box at a time, back aching with every trip. Once I had finished carrying the boxes back into my studio apartment, I unpacked them, everything back in its’ place, picked up a book and the beer, and sat cross-legged on the floor, my eyes scanning the pages, my imagination fueled by the seemingly insignificant words printed on the coffee stained paper.
My eyes drifted to the kitchen counter; full bloom. Thank God he let the plants die.
