And I Would Walk Five-Hundred Miles

The minute that door closed, I threw myself onto the couch face first. I lingered there for Lord knows how long, figuring that I’d fall asleep before my head started to process every move Micah had made.

Too late.

I was there for a while, but I fingered the necklace dangling delicately from my clavicles. It was so simple yet so beautiful. It must have cost him an arm and a leg.

And now, he was going off to hangout with his boyfriend. Seriously, you would think that the two were going out because they were always talking to each other.

I’d be a bold-faced liar if I said that their little friendship didn’t hurt. I suddenly felt like a third-wheel. Mind you, I was, at one point or another, the object of both of their affections. Now, I am just a common denominator for the both of them.

It’s rather irritating.

I remember a time when Daniel and I would run his lines into the early hours of the morning, only to spend the rest of the morning snogging passionately until our faces felt numb. Then we would cuddle as we would tell each other stories of our childhood until we just fell asleep in each other’s arms. Nowadays, we still have our talks, but he also talks to Micah and already made plans to hang out during Micah’s stay. Now, Micah is giving me diamonds and being affectionate, but he goes and runs off with Daniel.

I’m starting to wonder if there’s something going on between those two…

“Curiouser and curiouser,” as Alice would have said.

I then suddenly rolled to a sitting position and muttered to no one in particular, “I’m bored.”
Of course, no one responded to my statement, but I did figure that a shopping trip could be in order because shopping was seldom boring. So with that, I grabbed my purse and headed out to my friend Greg’s shop.

As I strolled down the street, I felt strange watching people passing me by. It was as if everyone walking was paired up, like this was some sort of English Street Noah’s Ark.

Everything, from the trees to the dogs to the hobos, was paired up. And here I was! I was alone!

I absentmindedly fingered the diamond hanging from my neck. Where was Micah? Was he with Dan?

There you go: another pair!

I sped up my pace, staring straight ahead. I really didn’t want to think more than necessary.

A pair of cracks in the sidewalk.
A pair of pigeons cooing.
A pair of teenagers snogging.

As I passed them by, I heard him softly say, “I love you.”

I felt myself grimace as I made a left turn to get onto the street where Greg’s store, Fashion Backwards, was.

A pair of deserted cups, one with a pink lipstick smudge on the edge of it, on a table.
A pair of chairs next to said table.
A pair of cigarette butts next to the leg of one of those chairs.

Noah’s-Street-Ark…

What the hell was going on with me? Am I just being hypersensitive?

I finally burst through the shop’s door to be greeted by Greg saying, “Hello, Lydia!” He held up a pair of necklaces with a pair of rabbits kissing. “Aren’t these cute?”

“AGH!!!! WHAT’S WITH THE NOAH’S ARK MOTIF?” I shouted and proceeded to bury my face into my arm planted firmly on the counter.

There was silence as I breathed heavily into my arm until Greg finally spoke, “Are you okay, Lydia?”

I lifted up my head to discover I had tiny puddles on my arm and on the counter.
“Do I look okay?”

There was a pause and he said, “No, in fact, you actually look like hell.”

“Geez, thanks, Greg. I really appreciate how uncensored you are towards me in my time of need.”

“Well,” he retorted, “how can I be censored if I don’t even know what the hell is going on with you. All I know is that you walk into my store, I show you a necklace, you proceed to scream about Noah’s Ark Motifs, and you begin crying. Now, I don’t know about how things are in America, but here in England, we can’t read minds, so either you tell me what’s going on, or I remain uncensored.”

I glared at him momentarily and breathed, “I think I’m in love, and the man I love is off with my ex-boyfriend.”