Masquerade
She waltzes into the room; feigns attitude.
He walks, calmly, to her.
"What brings you?"
"It is the news that, well, we have been given an off-day. About time, too!"
" I know that already."
She scowls. "Sure you do. But that was a hint."
"I know that already, as well." Lacking interest in his voice.
"Nerve!" She puts two gloved hands on her hips.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"Well first, I expect you give me thanks, anyway."
"Fine. Thank you."
"And I also expect to know if you'd go with me anywhere."
"I'm not interested." Plain, empty words.
"Really? Not even something simple?"
"No. But thanks anyway."
She shrugs, like she never cared.
They depart from one another.
She sighs as the door behind her closes.
In reality she just needs his time, his attention, his advice. Just to know someone still cares.
Never really wanted his romantic affections, but she'd do what she could to interest him; if that would even work. Evidently not.
So she pretends she's something else.
Anything less vulnerable than she.
He lets his eyes close; denial of himself.
He lives like he's indifferent. Like he really doesn't care.
Like he could do whatever he wanted, when really he did the opposite.
He tells himself to keep a distance. He tells himself to keep collected.
When really he needs them more than he would admit.
But he denies it; refuses it.
Because he never wanted to be that weak. Vulnerable.
So he closes in on himself.
She flies off, away from his house, into the empty grey sky.
The air is cold on her exposed shoulders, as she goes to seek another's care.
Others who couldn't see deep enough would think she was just selling herself as unrespectable.
He locks the doors for the night, and sinks into bed.
Careless and needless, he's convinced.
But every now and then he feels the force field break.
Like tonight.
An attempt to remain unbroken sometimes breaks you anyway.
If they were to stand unhidden, face to face, they'd be shocked at what they saw.
Their true selves, buried so deeply under their lies; their false identities, that they, themselves, almost forgot.
Vulnerability; the riskiest step to take. But the first step in healing.
The first step in really living.