Mar 3, 2010

Late post

A friend at work asks rhetorically, in passing, "How's it going?"

"Waiting to die", I answer.

She freezes, and quickly motions me to a more private place to speak. "What the hell do you mean by That!"

"Just hanging, drifting, not interested in anything, almost no responsibilities except myself, middle aged, no goals or plans. Burned out on trying to date at 47, all these wierdoes in Manhattan and even Long Beach, yet it's so hard to leave. How the hell can you be this bored in NYC?"

She pulls my ear close to her lips as she whispers, "You're already dead..."

She grabs me violently by his collar, and snatched my face close to hers.

"Don't you even think about laying down, you fuck! This is a better place with you here!" My teeth rattled as she shook me. "There are people that rely on you and care about you - you are NOT alone."

Shuddering, I was held tightly in her grasp. This wasn't the bridge of a ship in deadly combat, or an isolated foxhole occupied by two grunts with an incoming artillery barrage. It was just an office building with nothing but commerce and business happening - why was she so vehement?

Then she kissed me - not a quick peck, or a 'We're more than friends' kiss, but the full-on, steaming kiss that Makes Promises for later. "Stick around", she breathed.

And that explained everything.

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