Dreaming of what once was
Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. Her image was so vivid, so real that he could smell her strawberry scented auburn locks, feel the heat of her intense gaze, hear the way his name sounded on her lips as she moaned it at the height of ecstasy and if he thought hard enough, he could still taste her on his lips. He had loved her, the way she viewed the world; her cynical view of mankind, her ability to see it how it was and not fluff around with social niceties and the way she was able to reduce a full grown man to tears with a single sentence. He also loved her soft side, a side that he had patiently waited to meet in the early days of their relationship, but something well worth his time.
He was torturing himself, thinking only of the good times they shared. It shredded him inside, but that was good he wanted, needed to feel bad it was the only thing keeping him sane. Sure there had been bad times, that was why she had left him for another man, someone he had regarded as his friend.
He loathed what he had become, a bitter twisted middle aged man. He no longer recognized the man he saw when he looked in the mirror; His once virile handsome face had become drawn and creased and his once silken black mane of hair was now thinning and peppered with grey. He was now a hollow shell of the man he had once been. When she left she had taken a huge part of him with her, something he doubted would ever return.
If it weren't for the kids he would have packed up and fled town with his tail between his legs like the dog that he was, but he felt obliged to stay. Those kids were the only semblance of hope that he had left, not that he ever told them that. They hated him, but he was okay with that, it was the least he deserved.
He knew he had to forget about her, move on and stop feeling sorry for himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. In his eyes, it would be like dismissing their entire relationship. It may not have been so bad if he didn't have to see them every day.
It took every ounce of self control not to tear that bastard's head off. The pansy ass, sensitive new age guy crap he put on for the ladies made his blood boil, even the mention of his name caused his pulse to quicken. Somewhere deep down he knew that she was better off with him, the facade may have been a pickup ploy but the guy did treat her right, way better than he ever had.
It had started a few months before she had left, communication had all but stopped. She only spoke to him when it was necessary. He knew he should have done something, he just figured that it was a phase that whatever he had done would be forgotten about and they'd move on. He had been wrong.
"I'm leaving you, there's someone else." Her voice was calm, the words delivered in perfect monotone.
"What?" She had caught him off guard, he had been stunned.
"I've been seeing someone else. I'm sorry." She reaffirmed.
"Who is it?" he rasped as he shook his head in disbelief.
She had stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, "Anthony…" she hesitated, unable to bring herself to answer.
"Janet! Who is he?" he shouted.
"It's… Tim, Timothy O'Neill." She said quietly.
He shook his head clearing himself of the memory and glanced up, realizing that even though he was in a room full of students, he had never felt more alone.
