I feel so brokenhearted, I knew the day we started that we were meant to be.
Ooh ooh, I’m missing you, tell me why the road turns…
“Where did you go off to just then?”
“Can February March? No, but April May,” he laughed. “Remembering April…”
“What happened in April?”
“Not the month, the person.”
“Yes. The love of my life. My soulmate. My one.”
“Why are you not with her right now?”
“We’re divorced. It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it for me.”
Would that tapping of the spoon on the side of her porcelain cup just stop already? But wait, it was so mesmerizing. He felt like he was sinking into the floor.
“Samuel…” he whispered.
He was jolted awake. What the actual fuck?! Where was he? This didn’t feel like any waking up disorientation. How did he get here? The last thing he remembered…What The Fuck was the last thing he remembered?! His memory was hazy. Wait…did something happen? Did Meredith Grey actually try to hypnotize him?
He turned his head to the side and his eyes almost bugged out. Nooo…it couldn’t be. Could it? No, he wasn’t that stupid.
“What are you doing here KK? We’ve discussed this…can you not…please go and put on some clothes.” He still wasn’t sure of her name, Krista or Kinka? All he knew was that she was one K short of a white sheet.
“But-but…we…” Her petulance gave it away.
“We nothing. I’m your doctor and nothing more. Have a little pride girl. Now please, go to your room and get dressed.”
“This is actually my room. They gave you my room to use, but whatever,” she sulked and under her breath she mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch about Instagram and her twitter followers.
Which was a weird segue, right? Unless she was low-key stalking him on twitter? Or since he was divorced was she making it seem like he was into her?
He simply had to roll his eyes at the immaturity she displayed. She was a grown woman for Christ’s sake. And childishly sparing with teens on twitter – or so he’d heard some colleagues claim was the new social media interaction. Throwing shade and bullishly trolling was apparently the new assertive. To him it displayed a lack of class, and the antagonistic bullying of youngsters actually fell under the awnings of predatory conduct.
He’d also heard about a term called Sealioning. The name given to a specific, pervasive form of aggressive cluelessness, which masqueraded as a sincere desire to understand. A type of Internet trolling, he’d read, the purpose of which was not clarification or elucidation, but rather attempting to derail a discussion or wearing down the patience of an opponent. He wondered if she was sealioning. Or was the word meant to be used more in the context of intellectual discourse?
That girl and clothes though, or rather lack of them…he just shook his head. Her exhibitionism seemed to be some attention-seeking pattern of behavior. And he didn’t need to be Freud to come-up with that. He was itching to get his scalpel on her though. And no that wasn’t an euphemism for any male appendage. Those cankles needed him. Still not euphemistic. It was one of two remaining natural flaws in a perfectly plastic surgery masterpiece. This was his challenge.