He heard the sound of the others in the meeting, but their words
never reached him. He couldn't forget that laugh. It played over and over in
his mind as he sat staring absently out the window. He looked down and examined
the goose bumps on his arm. It was a part of her he had never seen.
Their conversation had been brief yet long enough to leave him disoriented. He had been greeted with a sombre demeanor as she questioned him, but the darkness crumbled as a smile appeared and her eyes sparkled as his misfortunes were relayed. And then it happened, she laughed, a genuine laugh erupted. She made no attempt to conceal it as she expressed her gratitude for his bad news.
Upon reflection he realized it was the closure so badly needed, but he had never expected to travel to dark recesses of his mind. He couldn't remember the last time hate had taken such a hold on him. He closed his eyes and rubbed them as his name echoed in the distance.
He turned to meet the other faces around the table. They smiled and joked about his aloofness as the meeting ended. He watched their mouths move but there was no sound. As they left, he turned the chair and watched a spider make its way across the table. Her face appeared before him with the menacing laugh as his hand slammed down on the table - ending the spider's life.
He stood and wiped the remains of the spider on a curtain and took a deep breath. Killing the spider was cathartic, but it was her blood he wanted to see and touch. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head to extinguish such thoughts. The table extended before him as he turned. His hands rested on the shiny lacquer finish as he leaned forward - a pose she had struck many times on this very table.
More people arrived for another meeting and he was quickly evicted. The morbid thoughts continued as his office door slammed behind him. The message waiting light winked at him but he didn't feel like talking or listening. He knew his obsessive nature was getting the best of him as he reminded himself that there would be no winners in this game, but he still wanted something. His clenched fists grew white as he rocked back and forth.
"Fucking whore," he mumbled to himself while thumbing through his Rolodex. The accidental pun amused him since the object of his anger was the same kind of person he wanted. He paused while remembering the naming scheme for such services and then found it under stress reduction, but he reconsidered it. He grabbed a folder and tackled his work as the anger invigorated him. He realized the hate would never recede and he welcomed it.
Their conversation had been brief yet long enough to leave him disoriented. He had been greeted with a sombre demeanor as she questioned him, but the darkness crumbled as a smile appeared and her eyes sparkled as his misfortunes were relayed. And then it happened, she laughed, a genuine laugh erupted. She made no attempt to conceal it as she expressed her gratitude for his bad news.
Upon reflection he realized it was the closure so badly needed, but he had never expected to travel to dark recesses of his mind. He couldn't remember the last time hate had taken such a hold on him. He closed his eyes and rubbed them as his name echoed in the distance.
He turned to meet the other faces around the table. They smiled and joked about his aloofness as the meeting ended. He watched their mouths move but there was no sound. As they left, he turned the chair and watched a spider make its way across the table. Her face appeared before him with the menacing laugh as his hand slammed down on the table - ending the spider's life.
He stood and wiped the remains of the spider on a curtain and took a deep breath. Killing the spider was cathartic, but it was her blood he wanted to see and touch. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head to extinguish such thoughts. The table extended before him as he turned. His hands rested on the shiny lacquer finish as he leaned forward - a pose she had struck many times on this very table.
More people arrived for another meeting and he was quickly evicted. The morbid thoughts continued as his office door slammed behind him. The message waiting light winked at him but he didn't feel like talking or listening. He knew his obsessive nature was getting the best of him as he reminded himself that there would be no winners in this game, but he still wanted something. His clenched fists grew white as he rocked back and forth.
"Fucking whore," he mumbled to himself while thumbing through his Rolodex. The accidental pun amused him since the object of his anger was the same kind of person he wanted. He paused while remembering the naming scheme for such services and then found it under stress reduction, but he reconsidered it. He grabbed a folder and tackled his work as the anger invigorated him. He realized the hate would never recede and he welcomed it.
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