The peace after the storm
She rings at the door. It's weird to see her standing there, waiting for me to open the door. We smile to each other, uneasy smiles that are supposed to fill the absence of words. She doesn't know what to do, really. Everything that was familiar a few days ago needs my permission, now. Ellen probably was thinking of showing indifference through this action, but I can see in her face that my own indifference (whether feigned or real) has turned her weapon against her.
-Do you want some coffee?
She nods with the head, as she encompasses every little piece of furniture. I wonder whether Christine did the same thing Sunday. Did she notice that I shared the same roof with another woman only a few days before? A wave of guilt rises inside of me, as I think that Ellen will surely notice her past presence. Maria didn't come today, so the house is a true brothel. Maybe I should have waited a few more days, just for respect. I for sure wouldn't like meeting my ex after a few days and find her in sweet company.
We have coffee in the veranda. She's gathered a few things on the table, mostly dresses, a toothbrush. I thought she'd take away her presents, but she hasn't. Irrationally, I'm glad she hasn't.
She sips her coffee from her own mug. I haven't done it intentionally. I look at my own. An exact copy of hers. Funny how our brain works. We've bought that set at a fair, in those rare moments when we played the role of the perfect couple. This is a thing I won't keep.
Ellen is lost in the waves. I thank the seagulls for filling up the crushing silence of the sunset.
-Do you want some coffee?
She nods with the head, as she encompasses every little piece of furniture. I wonder whether Christine did the same thing Sunday. Did she notice that I shared the same roof with another woman only a few days before? A wave of guilt rises inside of me, as I think that Ellen will surely notice her past presence. Maria didn't come today, so the house is a true brothel. Maybe I should have waited a few more days, just for respect. I for sure wouldn't like meeting my ex after a few days and find her in sweet company.
We have coffee in the veranda. She's gathered a few things on the table, mostly dresses, a toothbrush. I thought she'd take away her presents, but she hasn't. Irrationally, I'm glad she hasn't.
She sips her coffee from her own mug. I haven't done it intentionally. I look at my own. An exact copy of hers. Funny how our brain works. We've bought that set at a fair, in those rare moments when we played the role of the perfect couple. This is a thing I won't keep.
Ellen is lost in the waves. I thank the seagulls for filling up the crushing silence of the sunset.