Truth is stranger than reality
We went up to the top floor to smoke - we really have to stop meeting so often after work and like this - and then from across, I saw him and his girlfriend/fiancee/otherfuckinglabels from across. My visceral reaction was to jerk up and drop down. As if anyone could see me.
“You are an idiot.” And then you force me to watch everything by slinging your arm over my neck and clamping my head between your chest and hand. “You need to get over it.” And that’s when I knew I was not wrong about you being the biggest fucker in my life. I try to squirm out of you but you weren’t having any of that so I decide to threaten to burn you with the end of the butt if you didn’t let go. And amidst all my hissing and spitting, all you kept repeating was “just look, just fucking look” as you clamped down harder. I really don’t want to.
It’s about fighting against the things that you don’t wish to see but there comes a time where struggling is useless because there is a force so great. The cards are laid out, the milk is split and the film reel is over. From the top floor, I’m limp in someone else’s arm as I see you downstairs, content and smiling with your 100% ideal. It’s a short scene, but it went on far too long. My cigarette hangs from between my index and middle fingers and I really feel that my legs are somewhere far in this universe.
Suddenly my ear feels hot and I hear the mechanical sound of your heartbeat. He’s already gone and I’m still here. “If you don’t let go, I’m going to fucking butt this out on your hand,” I say. My ribs are squeezed tighter so I make a perfect dive to the back of your hand on the railing. I didn’t really mean to carry out my threat, I really didn’t. But your palm suddenly met with my fiery end and all I could do was hold still while I feel you swallow my gasps of horror slowly, slowly and then entirely.