There he sat staring at the monitor not wanting to
blink nor breathe.
" where the heck did that came from?", he said to
himself.
He now feels empty. The pleasure he felt for several days
seemed to disappear in a moment. Now he's feeling
tired..exhausted..drained.
" that's strike three already!", talking to
himself.
A voice inside him is telling him to disregard what he just
read and go on with the conversation but his fingers didn't want to
move. This woman he's talking to is so caught up with her lifestyle
that she thinks everyone else is just the same. But he can't blame her.
She didn't want to be that way. He knows what she's been through.
Conversely, she couldn't blame him too for reacting this way. For what
she said is going against the very principle that he is trying to
instill her. He didn't want to argue about it anymore. He took it like
a slap in the face. Then logged off.
The phone rings. He knew she'd
call. But he is not yet ready to speak to her so he discarded it. It
rang again and again and so he decided to turn it off. He grins as he
did. Somehow he felt justified by doing so. He takes a glance out of
the window and wondered if he would still feel uncongenial later..and
how 'bout tomorrow? He sat there for another moment thoughtless.
" i
got better things to do than worry about this shit ", he said then goes
back to his favorite game.
Still it continued to bother him. He laughs
at himself because he never felt annoyed like this for a while. As he
pondered through his emotions he discovered something. "OMFG!", he
murmured. There trying to remain subtle is something that he is not
ready to recognize yet. At least for now. Somehow he knows where this
is leading to. Somehow he knew already right from the start. And somehow
she knows too. He stood up wearing a flat face. And as he lights a
cigar he said, " Does she really know who i really am? Does she really
know me at last?"