... and inevitably the morning did come. She hung limply from the edge of his bed with one arm over the side so that her fingers could trace endless meaningless patterns in the pile of the dull gray carpet. The color of the carpeting was equally meaningless in its absolute neutrality and that caused her contemplate an overwhelming feeling that her existence had somehow also lost all purpose.
She could hear him then in the bathroom, oblivious to her consciousness, performing what she assumed was his normal morning hygiene ritual. I wonder if he remembers that I am here? she thought to herself, perhaps I have become as the carpet itself; always underfoot, but just because I am and have been here; not because anybody wishes me to be so. This brought a sad little smile and a revelation that he may not even wish to accept her presence. Was it possible that if he acted as if she werent there, she might quietly let herself out and spare him the awkward morning-after conversation?
A single bar of sunlight filtered through the vertical blinds and illuminated a column across the floor perfectly framing his shoulder rig and service revolver in a narrow rectangle of glowing amber light. She wondered about the machismo of these cop types, if he would brag in the locker room or squad room about the previous evenings sexual encounter. This thought alone made her want to wretch ...
She could hear him again in the bathroom calling out to her, or talking to somebody, or maybe even nobody at all. Probably just congratulating himself on the conquest of the night before. Getting his locker room stories ready for the beat cops he would try to impress. She was to be a piece of ass and that was both complimentary and degrading at the same time.
When she was younger she may have wished to be thought of in such a way. But as an adult it seemed to further nullify her worth. At the same time she realized, she was at an age when many women begin to question their appearance. The age when anti-agingcosmetic advertisements suddenly begin to appeal to a woman as preventative maintenance, so it was also flattering to believe that a man still finds her body appealing.
He called to her more loudly then and she sat up slowly in the bed. he was saying something but it was muffled and unintelligible. She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror and observed his toothbrush protruding from the corner of his mouth. Nothing he could say really mattered now. She knew exactly what she was going to do.
With no more though or predication she followed the single linear ray of light to his shoulder harness and drew the revolver. and pressed the cool round barrel hard underneath her chin. {Click} she cocked the hammer, {Click} she pulled the trigger.
The nightmare ends.
She could hear him then in the bathroom, oblivious to her consciousness, performing what she assumed was his normal morning hygiene ritual. I wonder if he remembers that I am here? she thought to herself, perhaps I have become as the carpet itself; always underfoot, but just because I am and have been here; not because anybody wishes me to be so. This brought a sad little smile and a revelation that he may not even wish to accept her presence. Was it possible that if he acted as if she werent there, she might quietly let herself out and spare him the awkward morning-after conversation?
A single bar of sunlight filtered through the vertical blinds and illuminated a column across the floor perfectly framing his shoulder rig and service revolver in a narrow rectangle of glowing amber light. She wondered about the machismo of these cop types, if he would brag in the locker room or squad room about the previous evenings sexual encounter. This thought alone made her want to wretch ...
She could hear him again in the bathroom calling out to her, or talking to somebody, or maybe even nobody at all. Probably just congratulating himself on the conquest of the night before. Getting his locker room stories ready for the beat cops he would try to impress. She was to be a piece of ass and that was both complimentary and degrading at the same time.
When she was younger she may have wished to be thought of in such a way. But as an adult it seemed to further nullify her worth. At the same time she realized, she was at an age when many women begin to question their appearance. The age when anti-agingcosmetic advertisements suddenly begin to appeal to a woman as preventative maintenance, so it was also flattering to believe that a man still finds her body appealing.
He called to her more loudly then and she sat up slowly in the bed. he was saying something but it was muffled and unintelligible. She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror and observed his toothbrush protruding from the corner of his mouth. Nothing he could say really mattered now. She knew exactly what she was going to do.
With no more though or predication she followed the single linear ray of light to his shoulder harness and drew the revolver. and pressed the cool round barrel hard underneath her chin. {Click} she cocked the hammer, {Click} she pulled the trigger.
The nightmare ends.