The Breakup October 17, 2007

The air smells the same. Salty as always, it strikes with the same intensity. The ocean on the right is the same. Strong as always, it sends the waves gushing on to the rocks. The crowd on the left is the same. Agile as always, they indulge in drinking and merry-making. The lights surrounding the place are the same. Dim as always, they glow with a slight radiance adding intensity to the exuberant faces. The noise is the same. Loud as always, it mixes music and voices into itself making a nice blend. The wooden table feels the same. Rough as always, it matches perfectly with the surroundings. Where lays the change then?

You are not yourself today. As you gaze at the ocean, your eyes no longer have the usual twinkle. Your hair seem carelessly tied and no longer look attractive. The smile is gone forever. Your hands are clasped together on the table, very distant from mine.

Thirty minutes of dead silence. Not a word exchanged. Over half a dozen cigarettes puffed out. You turn your face towards me. In contrast to your gloomy appearance, I have a smile over my lips. In contrast to your depressed soul, I feel cool and comfortable. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table to look at you more intently.

“Is that it for us?”. You speak to break the silence. Your voice is no longer the same. The sweet, soothing tone is replaced with a tensed and stressed cry.

I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to waste these last moments in a conversation. I observe you to retain as much of you as I can. You still want an answer and I response with a grin. That is it for you. You get up and leave and I still carry on with my observation. The grief makes its final blow and you start to cry. I see you take quick steps and move out, wiping your tears on the way.

I don’t want to leave and don’t have a reason to. I lit another cigarette and rest my back comfortably on the wooden chair. After my sole source of interest gone, the surroundings catch my attention. I begin to look around again. Life moves on.