Flights of Fancy part II

In Fiction, The Daily Drool on September 9, 2009 at 9:05 am

A continuation of this week’s fiction

He didn’t understand it.  COULD NOT, in fact, BELIEVE it.  The cold sweat having soaked its way into every cottonous fiber of his 600 thread count sheets, he was left shivering and shaky and completely at the mercy of his mutinous heart.

It had been her decision.  She’d left him… not the other way around.  What business was it of his to go chasing after her?  Yet there he was, terrified by the emptiness in his chest discovered at precisely 5:45 a.m. when his alarm went off to remind him to go for a run.

Fat chance of that now.

It was nearly 10:30 and he still hadn’t been able to get out of bed.  He wished Sasha was here, she would know exactly what to do… but then that was the whole issue wasn’t it?  Angered by his iron-like steadfastness against the ever-rising tied of love, his heart had just up and left him too- and to what end?  Was he to be a prisoner of this bedroom for the rest of his miserable life?  Was it really fair to be punished so by your own organs?  He mentally prodded his kidneys and liver… they all seemed to be as surprised as he; practical to a fault and completely impervious to the impossibilities of romance.

It had been maddening actually, the day he met her- hair a mess and her attitude far from in check, he should have just pointed her towards the atrium and been done with it.  But no, something about the way she was slightly out of breath had gotten his imagination going and he’d walked her all the way to the elevator, up the twenty six floors, and down the interminable hallway to the HollyHock Grand Atrium.  He could tell right away it was less than what she’d imagined (the building’s external architecture should have prepared her thus) and so he’d taken the only course of action left to him as he grew ever-more addicted to her smile- he asked her to coffee.  And it had worked, she’d smiled so wide that the gleam off her teach arched right up to the heavens and landed with ownership right atop the property where his long quiet heart had been sleeping.

Stupid really to have been so enchanted.  Stupider still to have asked for her number!  God, he rolled his eyes with the ridiculousness of it all, at the ridiculous nature of his younger self.

Now look at him- naked and shivering and completely, totally, unequivocally alone.  He’d been better off as machine, everything pumping and processing and taking orders.  If he’d had any idea his heart was capable of such stubborn treachery he’d have taken that job up in Greenland- a nice long research project with naught but ice flakes for company.

But Los Angeles had seemed so much… warmer.

That’s what it was, all the warm weather thinning his blood and leaving him dizzy with sunburn.  It had been a trick of the light, that spectacle of her smile, and he the poor sap blinded by it.

What was he going to do?  How could his heart have chosen her over him?  Its resting place for thirty-five years and now… where would it live?  What would he stuff in its place?  And what was it up to without him?

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