The Room

“Nice to see you back again, I missed my most dysfunctional client,” she said with a face that really wanted to say i told you so. 

“Oh, i’m not back!” i exclaimed adjusting myself on the new and far less irritating couch,  “just passing through.”

“Good for you, how have you been?” She uttered this plainly, as if it were a formality. I made sure my response was just as perfunctory as her question, “Good.”

I must admit, i missed seeing her. The room which once was a shelter to my rogue brain was now looking more and more broken. We had a pact, it said, you were to spend your life with me. Insane forever, remember. What happened? Little did everyone know that it wasn’t the room i signed up for, it was her.

“You’ll be alright,” she said, putting her diary and pen away on the side table, “You’ll be perfectly fine, i don’t think there was anything ever wrong with you in the first place, but it was fun. Making it look like you were a what-dya-call-it- a gone case?”

Smile forced its way out of me, “You bitch!”

Smile forced its way out of her, “You said it!”

“I will still come see you, you know – this isn’t goodbye. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a goodbye between us.” There’s this feeling, when your not really crying, but there’s water that is  slowly flooding your eyeballs and you force it to stay there, so as to avoid any trickling incident, It was happening to me now.

“I know,” She ended.

I got up and walked towards that same window through which sunlight often practiced art on the floor and looking outside at the empty street, woke up.

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