Drove her to the airport amidst uneasy silence. Few kisses in haste, and she's gone. At least for the time being. Blankly speeding off minutes later, the experience is numbing. Fifteen hundred miles in between make it slightly complicated for weekend visits, especially with no direct flights. In a split of a second, I am a bachelor again!
And insomnia is back with a vengeance. Staring into the night does not help. Nor does anything else. The apartment that seemed to be too small yesterday is too large for my liking instantly. And I'm restless. And useless.
Paying a visit to a jazz club. You're here?! — the singer spotted me. She tries to smile but is too tired. She's pregnant. It's been like... seven years, yeah, seven years. I wish we had something to talk about, yet we have very little in common. She sings Midnight at the Oasis, I hate that song ever since I saw it in Lost in Translation. I leave as soon as the band packs. No urge to get pissed. And I'm driving, anyway.
I stare. I'm losing the grip. I'm losing motivation. And I wonder what's next.
Must indulge in work and sports, that's the only way. Make money and get in shape. No daydreaming, no contemplating. That's the plan.
2 comments:
no promises, getting on your knees, or similar, very corny stuff? ah, you, men!
I love your plan, gonna steal it. It's the only way.
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