We are talking about breaking up. That has to stand out in the minds of anyone who can hear us. And, of course, they can hear us. The apartment walls are made out of sound conducters. Microscopic,
maybe. But, none the less, utterly perfect sound quality.
We aren't saying the politically correct if, anymore. Hell, we have already faced facts. Its now become, 'When we break up...' this or, 'When I leave you..' that. We really are having a go at it, now. I wonder if, downstairs, someone's biting back the urge to whisper "Pass the popcorn, Jon", worried they will miss one moment of our banter. Is someone doing the "I gotta go" dance outside their bathroom, thinking the sound of their tinkle will drowned us out?
The most stupid part of this entire thing is? I don't mean a word of it. I say it, whole heartedly believing that he means what he screams at me. I'm a fat ugly cow who doesn't understand classic English literature. Of course, that would make him a obsessed zombie in the library of no one remembers that stupid snowy woods poet! And, in the midsts of our fighting I recall, Robert Frost, that same poet. Pot and kettle.. black as coal, but too occupied with the other to see the china in the mirror. ....China.. appliance.. my point still stands.
When the door to the bedroom slams, and his "I hate to be depressed about hating you" music comes on, I want to hurl. Perhaps I could throw myself down the fire escape and score some of the popcorn as it flies out of Jon's surprized hands.
But, whats the point? The person in front of the bathroom is tinkling peacefully, Jon's told the whisperer to "piss off", and He's locked himself in solitude. Is he crying in there? Is he tying the knot to his own noose? Perhaps he's giving himself a "five finger rub down"... Why do I care!?
Like I said, who talks about their own break up like its as factual as some historical war. Then it hits me... Historical war has to be the worst pun ever used for an eventual break up. And, the worst has to be, I've already lost....
© Copyright 2016 JadAtHrt. All rights reserved.