As the light shone through the curtain-less window of the unheated loft, which was also void of electricity, I realized that I had fallen asleep on the couch with my guitar. Again. God I hate this fucking morning. God I hate this fucking mourning! That's poetic. That's pathetic. Mark's "Musetta" entered the room, slamming the door loudly, declaring her presence. I bet she's wondering why he's not looking at her.
"Geez, Maureen, break a plate or something why don't you!" She stared at me, puzzled, my comment clearly going straight over her pretty little head. "I don't suppose you've heard of La Bohème, then?" She glared at me for my patronizing comment, squinting her eyes evilly at me, those gorgeous emeralds, simultaneously cold and hot, freezing my insides, burning up the loft. I began to play "Musetta's Waltz".
"Gosh Roger, you are so funny. I want to be just like you when I grow up!" she retorted dryly, her voice deep and raspy, eyes shining with anger and sarcasm.
"But of course you do! Who doesn't?" I don't want to be me, that's for damn certain. But I can't tell her that—this is Maureen we're talking about, who still flirts with Mark, even after she dumped him for a woman, Maureen who has slept with every man, woman and (probably) domesticated animal in all of Alphabet City.
"What's going—Maureen? What are you doing here?" Poor Mark. This wild and crazy flirt has him leashed up ad raring to go. She really needs to get a (respectable) life.
"Pookie! There you are! Your roommate was being mean to me!" She pouted. This woman needs some professional help! But despite all that, there is something hopelessly attractive about her…
"You guys have to—oh hi Maureen!" Yes! Mimi! What was I thinking about? Oh yeah. Forget that—ugh. Maureen. What was I thinking?
"Hey babe, what's up?" I kissed her passionately, but I still couldn't shake my thoughts about Maureen, or how disconcerting they were.
"Ugh. God. Get a room!" Wow. Why was I just thinking about how sexy she was? And why am I kissing Mimi and seeing Maureen's face? Weird. And why don't I hate it? Ugh.