Michael pressed his head against the door and listened for her footsteps. If he heard her soft steps grow louder he knew he would open the door and never let her out again. If the steps grew softer until he could no longer hear them, he knew that he lost her. It all depended on the volume of her steps. He tried to listen to the sounds from the hallway outside his door, but all he could hear was his breath, the air conditioning, and the purring of her cat, who sat contently on his bed.
Click, click, click. Michael stared at the screen in awe. He stared at the light as if it would give him an answer. What does Michael hear, Michael thought out loud. He held his hand on the Apple button and then the S button. He did it again, and then again. Then he went to the menu and clicked save, just in case. He exhaled slowly and quit the program.
He could not write anymore. It was 4: 46 in the morning. He looked over at his girlfriend, asleep in their bed. She did not have the lines between her eyes that had formed recently on Michael’s brow. Her face was quite empty compared to Michael’s. His face was occupied with thick, dark stubble. He looked at her peaceful face, and had the urge to smother her with those damn goose down pillows her mom bought them for their two-year anniversary.
She had never seen this hour, he thought. She had never held a cup of coffee praying that it would allow her to stay up for one more hour of inspiration. She had never stared at a computer screen cursing every word that her insufficient head suggested.. She never needed a constant supply of eye drops to sooth her blood shot eyes. She was simple. Simple Suzanne. Disgusting.
He stood up and reached toward the ceiling and then the floor. He let his unbuttoned pants fall to the floor at he walked toward the bathroom. As he stood in front of the toilet, peeing and gargling at the same time, he thought about how he would end his novel. It was an amazing story, he knew, but he also knew that an inadequate ending could ruin even the best story. Would Tracy leave him forever, or would she walk back into his apartment? Could she really just leave her cat with him forever? Would he really just leave this all up to her? He spit the blue liquid into the toilet as the water swirled around the drain, and turned off the light. He never looked in the bathroom mirror. It was bad luck, and he did not like how he looked in that light.
Hearing the toilet flush, and feeling Michael getting into the bed, Suzanne yawned and asked what time it was. “Go back to bed honey.” Michael turned to his side to stare at the alarm clock.
“I love you, Michael.” She pressed herself against his back and fell asleep.
Michael watched the clock change to five and then six before passing out.
Click, click, click. Michael stared at the screen in awe. He stared at the light as if it would give him an answer. What does Michael hear, Michael thought out loud. He held his hand on the Apple button and then the S button. He did it again, and then again. Then he went to the menu and clicked save, just in case. He exhaled slowly and quit the program.
He could not write anymore. It was 4: 46 in the morning. He looked over at his girlfriend, asleep in their bed. She did not have the lines between her eyes that had formed recently on Michael’s brow. Her face was quite empty compared to Michael’s. His face was occupied with thick, dark stubble. He looked at her peaceful face, and had the urge to smother her with those damn goose down pillows her mom bought them for their two-year anniversary.
She had never seen this hour, he thought. She had never held a cup of coffee praying that it would allow her to stay up for one more hour of inspiration. She had never stared at a computer screen cursing every word that her insufficient head suggested.. She never needed a constant supply of eye drops to sooth her blood shot eyes. She was simple. Simple Suzanne. Disgusting.
He stood up and reached toward the ceiling and then the floor. He let his unbuttoned pants fall to the floor at he walked toward the bathroom. As he stood in front of the toilet, peeing and gargling at the same time, he thought about how he would end his novel. It was an amazing story, he knew, but he also knew that an inadequate ending could ruin even the best story. Would Tracy leave him forever, or would she walk back into his apartment? Could she really just leave her cat with him forever? Would he really just leave this all up to her? He spit the blue liquid into the toilet as the water swirled around the drain, and turned off the light. He never looked in the bathroom mirror. It was bad luck, and he did not like how he looked in that light.
Hearing the toilet flush, and feeling Michael getting into the bed, Suzanne yawned and asked what time it was. “Go back to bed honey.” Michael turned to his side to stare at the alarm clock.
“I love you, Michael.” She pressed herself against his back and fell asleep.
Michael watched the clock change to five and then six before passing out.
posted by Tracy Mayflower Young at 11:23 AM
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