How many times would it happen? Waking up to a foreign room, an unfamiliar
bed, a woman he hardly knew.
The low rumble of a distant train faded out to nothing and Luka broke the newfound silence with the soft sound of skin against cotton sheets. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, taking one quiet step towards the window.
*I'm happy for you.*
He stopped mid-step and turned to watch the sleeping figure in the bed. He wanted those words to be as meaningless as this. After that day, he found himself wishing he had used a different tone of voice, averted his gaze in another direction; anything to make her question the integrity of his words. It would be so easy. She could assume anything, and he would reveal nothing. But there would be a silent hint that she carried around, in the deepest part of her mind. And when she caught his eye from across the room, she would wonder.
As he pulled on his shirt and tucked the coat under his arm, he stood at the window once more. The neon orange light was streaming in and casting his long shadow across the carpet. It was better to leave now - a purely selfish idea. He could escape the shame, the emptiness he felt the morning after.
And that's what it was. It wasn't about sex anymore. It was an escape. Running to or from something.or someone.
He was already out the door.
As she came down from her tiptoes, fish food container in hand, she turned and gave him a smile.
And he knew what he was chasing.
The low rumble of a distant train faded out to nothing and Luka broke the newfound silence with the soft sound of skin against cotton sheets. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, taking one quiet step towards the window.
*I'm happy for you.*
He stopped mid-step and turned to watch the sleeping figure in the bed. He wanted those words to be as meaningless as this. After that day, he found himself wishing he had used a different tone of voice, averted his gaze in another direction; anything to make her question the integrity of his words. It would be so easy. She could assume anything, and he would reveal nothing. But there would be a silent hint that she carried around, in the deepest part of her mind. And when she caught his eye from across the room, she would wonder.
As he pulled on his shirt and tucked the coat under his arm, he stood at the window once more. The neon orange light was streaming in and casting his long shadow across the carpet. It was better to leave now - a purely selfish idea. He could escape the shame, the emptiness he felt the morning after.
And that's what it was. It wasn't about sex anymore. It was an escape. Running to or from something.or someone.
He was already out the door.
As she came down from her tiptoes, fish food container in hand, she turned and gave him a smile.
And he knew what he was chasing.