A Retelling of Events That Never Happened.
Living Room Windows.
There are brief and fleeting moments where I am allowed a glimpse of your world. The reality of it truly, not just my imaginings. The world where you know nothing of me and my existence does not affect you in any way, shape, or form.
You would think that it would change the way I imagine. That I would place myself in that particular situation, but I don’t. You always come into my world, but I do not go to yours.
I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because you don’t need me and I wouldn’t remain a stationary figure in your life. Maybe it’s because I feel you owe me.
Whatever the reasoning is, I see through your living room window and you come in through my front door.
“Did you miss me?”
“I’m always missing you.”
He smiles, kisses her on the cheek. Then he’s gone and she’s as alone as she was when he was there.
You would think that it would change the way I imagine. That I would place myself in that particular situation, but I don’t. You always come into my world, but I do not go to yours.
I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because you don’t need me and I wouldn’t remain a stationary figure in your life. Maybe it’s because I feel you owe me.
Whatever the reasoning is, I see through your living room window and you come in through my front door.
“Did you miss me?”
“I’m always missing you.”
He smiles, kisses her on the cheek. Then he’s gone and she’s as alone as she was when he was there.