1.12.2012

Dust, Shame, and the Dinner We Made

The disappointment on her face doesn't require much reading between the lines to decipher. As soon as I walk in it's present and stronger than ever. She flicks her wrist in my general direction, trying not to seem too affected by my presence. It's an ongoing battle of wits which I'm ashamed to admit I'm losing.

Not much can faze me these last few days, though. Even a hard day of work with barely any sleep after three bottles of wine hasn't rattled my cloud. There's a reason to hope the hall doesn't call with that out-of-town job that had my fingers crossed for so long. It's good to have reasons.

"You blew it, didn't you?" her countenance asks accusingly, thinking she knows the answer. If hatred could be bottled this gal would make me rich.

"Chill out," I say with an unpeelable smirk that's been greeting the recent minor misfortunes unscathed. "It's not what you think."

She shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and turns her eyes away. My words, as usual, won't convince her to stop being negative. In an effort to seem disinterested she angles her head toward the wall, but I can feel her dark eyes burning their way through my skin.

"And to think I let you touch me last night," I hear under her breath. My apparent failure to bring an acceptable guest again has her disgust running rampant. "Go light your Mexican saint candles, loser. One of them has to work."

I laugh at the over-ambitious attack on what's left of my dignity. This only infuriates her more. She hops into the hidden portion of her cage and scratches at the bedding as if it owes her money. Even though I'm chipper I'd rather not be accosted by her claws. The opportunity to feed her while she's preoccupied is graciously seized. Never pet a burning dog. Never tempt a spiteful rabbit.

As soon as she notices the food she returns to the visible portion of her cage. My job here is done, I've fed my furry charge, I turn and walk toward the door. I swear I hear mention of hoping she isn't right about the fate of her new friend. When I spin back around she's chewing furiously with a blade of hay twitching in her mouth like a misfit's cigarette.

"Goodnight, you," I tell her before closing the door.

The scent on the pillowcase brings me sweet dreams. There are worse things than waiting to drift off entwined.

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