Himself..
I tried not to blink it had only been two seconds. These games with myself are my distraction. I absently tap it on the ash tray, it had been burning for awhile and I know without looking that the ash was long. I take another long drag of my imaginary cigarette and imagine it coursing down my windpipe to my lungs, and then I instinctively blow out through the nose.
Is this how it feels to die slowly? Another distraction; actually I have never smoked but on many days, I imagine dieing of tobacco poisoning.
I get back to my day dream and shift on the day bed trying to find a comfortable spot for my neck. I will definitely get a neck ache after I get the strength to get off this chair. He walks in just as I contemplate the leg showing from the parting of the bath robe I do not attempt to cover up. It is midday already and I have not showered yet, just lying around in my bath robe.
The scene before him registers (I know it must have) even without really looking- nothing new. He places the heap of books he is carrying from the study to the previous heap. That is his mission for today.
This is where we are now, my better half (I prefer ball and chain it reflects us perfectly) and I at this moment in time this is who we have become.
He barely looks at me; I don’t know whether he knows am still here whether am still breathing and sane or otherwise. I on the other hand stare at him-I can look at him roaming about in his world for long minutes wondering who he is or why he looks like something the cat dragged in.
It is needless to say that we don’t talk, we don’t acknowledge each other though I will open the door for him when the urge to lag around the furniture from one room to another, from indoors out strikes. He can do that all day, huffing and puffing. I move the carpet so he doesn’t trip or open the door, just the least I can do for I man I don’t know what he is doing in my flat. The little comforts for old times sake.
The day before was his birthday; I don’t know whether he knows but we did nothing. Sometimes am amused he remembers to eat and wash. A part of his life still functions perfectly as though he is who he used to be.
I used to love him, perhaps I still do.
