Broken Hearts

He slammed the door as hard as he could.
He ignored the shocked silence just outside his office, where he had just uncharacteristically blown a torrent of abuse over a colleague's mistake.
He propped himself with his hands against the back of the chair nearest him. Deep breath. His neck felt tense, and his temples tight. He became acutely aware of the pounding in his chest, the tightening behind his eyes. His vision melted together into a blurry mess.
He'd left his meeting in full swing, ignoring the startled members calling after him. He was late, and the traffic was heavy. He'd slipped his car between other cars, and climbed the kerbs to get there as soon as he can. The cursed phone rang and rang; he ignored it knowing it would be the office. He'd had a rough week, and things hadn't gotten any better.
She was visibly upset when he got there, and before he could explain, they were in a full blown argument and she'd stormed off. He kicked at the shattered remains of his phone, hurled to the ground in the heat of the argument.
He'd gone off and doused his fury, and instead of heading home, went back to his office, and sat there in the dark, contemplating. He regretted the things he had said, and the things he had done, but she refused to answer his calls, and she didnt even answer the door.
It set the tone for the day, his mood most foul; and when his colleague told him about the slip up, the poor fellow got the short end of the stick.
And here he was, regretting everything he's had over the last one week. He wished he could restart his week and do the things right; at the least, even if they could not have agreed, he would not have said the things he said and she would not have walked off in a huff. He longed to be able to set things right, to put his arms around her and kiss her; and feel her warmth; and that she didn't turn up to work today he felt even worse and he suddenly felt that everything had ended.
He wanted her here. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her he loved her.
He clutched the back of the chair harder as the room began to spin. He had to get her back. The pounding in his chest now deafened his ears; his skin had broken in cold sweat and a bitter distaste grew in the back of his mouth. He wanted her back.
And he crashed to the floor as everything around him grew dark.

Evening Star

Evening fell swift at this time of year. He looked past the windscreen into the darkening blue yonder. Inside the car parked at the edge, he could see the late evening traffic snaking its way past, leaving a trail of bright red tail lights blinking as it moved towards the horizon. Venus shone brightly just above the horizon, a sparkling diamond against a velvety blue sky.
He watched her hand as she turned down the music on her car music player. The orange LED display shimmered on the diamond on her finger, setting it on fire. His eyes lingered on her hand for a moment, before shifting to her face as her eyes focused into the descending darkness.
They spoke in low voices, almost as if someone was listening; but it was late evening and the parking lot was deserted. His hand on hers, on her lap as he stroked the side of her hand with his thumb while she stroked the tips of his fingers as they spoke. The gloom followed the descending darkness as as they touched the irony of their lives. He was trapped in a meaningless marriage, she a lonely relationship; yet by circumstance, both went about their lives, living their charades. In the bustle of their lives, they had found each other, two souls lost together, neither knowing the way forward yet feeling safe in each others company. In the face of society, they were perfect strangers, and it was in these quiet moments that they became who they are.
He hesitated for a moment and then spoke. "I guess l can't call you for a while, eh? Its gonna make this a very long weekend."
She gripped his hand tight. "I'm going to miss you", she said, her voice trailing into silence. She let the silence linger for a while," He doesn't know things have changed. And I'm not ready to tell him." She clasped his fingers with both hands and brought them to her lips. "I'm really gonna miss you". She said it this time, almost to herself to remind her of the moment.
"Are you going to be OK?" he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I'm not asking you to choose," he continued," this is the life we chose it to be".
She leaned back in her seat and let out a long sigh. She turned her face away to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. Her life had never been perfect, and being with him brought a sense of completeness. But now the man in her complicated life is coming back, and the emptiness was beginning to grow. She clutched his hand tightly, and pressed it against her cheek feeling the warmth of his skin.
She kissed his hand one final time and bade him goodbye. In a screech of tires, she drove off into the darkness, not once looking back, her eyes clouded by tears.
Her man would be back, and once again, he'd try his best with flowers and gifts, with dinners and movies to make her the center of his life, but it was empty, and he was as distant as ever. She had driven away from the one person that filled her heart, that gave her hope, the one person that made her days worth waking to.

Starry, starry night..

He stood in the darkness, shoulders hunched, hands thrust deep into his pockets. He turned his face away from the direction of the crowd, lest the light from the solitary hurricane lamp gave away his presence. He'd been patiently waiting for a while now, seeing the crowd pass by him; some excited, some in chatter. He had chosen this spot, next to a small crowd waiting for the rest of his entourage. He pretended to be part of the crowd, standing close, but not close enough to make the crowd wary.
He saw her pass by. She walked hurriedly, clutching her purse, eyes looking ahead for something. He smiled as he realized she didn't see him and started to walk towards her. He continued walking, making his way past the thickening crowd as they began to form the queue; and he continued walking as he saw her stop in the queue, opened her purse and fumbled for her ticket. He slowed his pace considerably and quietly stood behind her as he waited for the guide to let them through. She turned as if to look for someone, and he quickly turned his face away. He would not want for her to see him. Yet.
The crowd in the queue began to swell, and he sidled up to her quietly. She turned to him with a gasp as he slid his hand into hers, her other hand immediately covering her mouth as her eyes recognized him. She grasped his hand firmly as he fought the urge to kiss her in the crowd.
They walked down to the pontoon in silence, pretending to be strangers. They quietly climbed into the boat as it grazed the pontoon, water slapping the sides of the boat. And they moved to the very back of the boat, as the others began to pile in.
The boat pushed off the pontoon, out into the darkness and as the shadows fell on them, he held her arm as she turned and kissed him with a long lingering kiss. She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked the sides of his face not believing that it was him in front of her. Together, in the darkness, underneath the cloudless, star sprinkled sky, he sat with his arms around her, her hands in his. Amidst the rythmic splash of the oars, oblivious to the rest, they floated gently down the river. In the brief moment that seemed to last forever, they cuddled, they kissed; they filled in each other's life with their whispers.
In that brief moment, their lives were one, their love shared. And it was only reluctantly they had to let go, because the boat ride had ended, and the glow of the hurricane lamp from the pier cast its light slowly towards them. And they climbed out of the boat, onto the pier, two strangers once again, back to their separate lives.

Perfume

"What are you looking at?" his wife asked, jolting him back to the present. They were at the ballroom of the most expensive hotel in the city. Despite the strenuous relationship, they had to pretend to be the loving couple, the bearer of the heir to the empire. The truth is that they despised each other, and led separate lives, but to the public eye, they painted a different picture. From time to time they paraded publicly, showing the public the false reality of their incomparable love.
They had walked together into the ball room, hand in hand, but both their hearts were elsewhere. As always, they’d pretend to be in conversation as they walked in, acknowledging important guests.
It was amidst the thronging crowds that he first caught whiff of a familiar perfume. He quickly scanned amongst the sea of faces, but he did not see the one that he knew. His mind began to wander away, to bits and pieces of his immediate past, little bits of memory locked away in that scent suddenly let free. Many times he caught himself in a dreamy half smile when the bits an pieces began to congeal into a recognizable moment; and he had to immediately brush it away just as one would brush away a recalcitrant strand of hair in front of the eye. And the thought of what the whiff of perfume might mean began to excite him; and focusing on the present charade began to get harder and harder.
Suddenly, between the forest of heads and faces, he caught a glimpse of her, seated at a table. He felt a sudden warmth rush to his chest and with pounding in his ears. She was at a table with a man he did not recognize. He felt a tinge of envy (jealousy? he wasn't sure) when he saw her, body forward, occasionally throwing her head back in laughter. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and she covered her mouth with long, slender fingers on hands girded by fine diamonds laced together in gold. Her hair was done up on the top of her head, showing off her long, slender neck, which she accentuated with a fine gold chain and a diamond solitaire. Matching diamonds dangled from her ears, framing her face, bringing focus to her cheekbones. Her laugh was a picture of genuine mirth, and he envied the liberty at which she could express her emotions. "Breakfast at Tiffany's", he muttered under his breath, as he imagined her as Audrey Hepburn, in a black evening dress, tiara in her hair and diamonds on her ears.
His smile became a grimace as his eyes locked into the burning gaze of his wife. "Keep those filthy thoughts to yourself," she hissed under her breath as she clutched his arm and led him away in the opposite direction. "People are watching". Glum, he said nothing as he was led towards his father - in law, the empire builder. He hated functions like this, where he had to pretend to be someone else. He felt suffocated in the company of these pompous investors, each offering the means to a "meaningful relationship", but in truth planning to strip every single wall of the company bare and run. And he had to greet each and everyone of these thieves straight in the eye, firm handshake emanating confidence and trust. And he had to laugh at every one of their lame banker jokes and sound genuinely entertained; even though deep down he sorely wished that they would at least take the trouble to read a new joke book. To add to that pretense, he had the little "itch" with a "b" right next to him, part of the charade.
As he shook hands with the chairman of the Board of Governors, he flashed the big smile of a trusted comrade, his other hand covering the chairman's in a show of welcome. Another charade, another fake relationship, another smile hiding gritted teeth. And hiding all that, a strand of memory, lilting in the wisps of perfume.