Being Chained - Part Three
James had forced himself to ignore her. More importantly, he had forced himself to ignore him, the man who slept next to her at night. The man who was now tasting the salt on her skin, the intoxicating mixture that James himself had once been addicted to. The man who now called her name and knew she would be there. The man who had taken James' place.
She quickly forgot that James was in clear view and earshot, and went back to cuddling with her new boyfriend, laughing and smiling as if she hadn't a care in the world. The sound of her voice echoed in his head as though it were empty, even though the opposite was horridly true. His eyes fluttered as he made himself look away and turned the volume up on his iPod, the halcyon yet brutal sound of her happiness shattering any semblance of peace.
When they reached Lexington Avenue, he saw the rose-colored figure he had been avoiding rise from her seat out of the corner of his eye, still hanging on the arm of her love. James refused to allow himself to look at her, though he had this bubbling feeling inside of the pit of his stomach that it would be the last time he'd ever see her. He could see and feel her gaze on him, waiting for him to flick his eyes and look at her. But he wouldn't. He couldn't do it.
The subway continued on, as did the people around them. The world didn't seem to stop to allow James his moment of pain, and he knew that it never would. He would have to keep going as nothing would ever pause long enough, or ever, to allow him the chance to gather himself off the floor. The bustle of the city kept flowing, paying little attention to the broken man, slumped on the subway seat.
She quickly forgot that James was in clear view and earshot, and went back to cuddling with her new boyfriend, laughing and smiling as if she hadn't a care in the world. The sound of her voice echoed in his head as though it were empty, even though the opposite was horridly true. His eyes fluttered as he made himself look away and turned the volume up on his iPod, the halcyon yet brutal sound of her happiness shattering any semblance of peace.
When they reached Lexington Avenue, he saw the rose-colored figure he had been avoiding rise from her seat out of the corner of his eye, still hanging on the arm of her love. James refused to allow himself to look at her, though he had this bubbling feeling inside of the pit of his stomach that it would be the last time he'd ever see her. He could see and feel her gaze on him, waiting for him to flick his eyes and look at her. But he wouldn't. He couldn't do it.
The subway continued on, as did the people around them. The world didn't seem to stop to allow James his moment of pain, and he knew that it never would. He would have to keep going as nothing would ever pause long enough, or ever, to allow him the chance to gather himself off the floor. The bustle of the city kept flowing, paying little attention to the broken man, slumped on the subway seat.