Δευτέρα, 14 Μαρτίου 2016
No Smoking In the Bedroom
I'm sure I can hear a Coldplay song playing from somewhere not that far away.
And then the door bell rings.
Which startles me because I'm not expecting anyone and yet, even though it's quite late, I'm not worried or afraid. I'm actually intrigued by this unexpected visit on my otherwise slow evening.
So I answer the door and there you are. You. In all your youness.
God why are you wet? Has it been raining? It wasn't raining here. Where have you come from?
I just look at you. I have about a thousand questions going on in my head but right now, I can't even breathe any of them. They don't even matter.
You gaze up, look at me straight in the eye, and speechless as we are, I let you come in.
I close the door. You take a few steps, you look around, as if to assess any changes in my house, see if it still looks like the way you remember it. And I'm standing frozen by the door, looking at your back, your wet jacket and I'm trying to understand how and why you're here. Again,
All while thinking "please don't go away".
And then you turn around. You take 4 decisive steps towards me until we are face to face, so close I can feel your breath going down my throat.
You put your arms around me and at first I can't understand if you want to hug or hurt me.
Then I feel your wet mouth on mine and the next thing I know, we are naked, sweaty and breathless in my bed,
I stare at the ceiling and light a cigarette. I stopped smoking in the bedroom a long time ago and I wonder what on earth made me break my rule tonight. I'm such a cliche, I'm thinking, and where on earth did I leave that wine I was drinking?
You're next to me, sorta dozing off but all of a sudden you give me a look, a perfect mixture of clarity and confusion. You sit up just a bit, and you're about to say something, you hesitate and take the cigarette from my mouth.
You take a long drag and look me in the eye and you finally speak: "So what does this make us now?"
I look at you. Your beautiful face and I feel tears burning my eyes. And I say: "Nostalgic".
And I woke up with such a force, it took me a while to realize it was just a dream, and that no, there was no smoking in the bedroom.
So I get up, go to the kitchen, where surprise surprise there's the wine glass and right next to it my phone, with a text from you that remained unanswered.
The mind is one messed up motherfucker sometimes I tell you.