Friday night panic

Her fingers twitched. The hand they belonged to was resting on her stomach. Her chest moved up and down as she breathed. I was afraid to breathe myself, in case she woke up to discover me watching her. It had become a daily ritual for me. Most days I would wake at the crack of dawn, usually around 5 am, just so I could watch her in peace. It was the only way I could memorize her.

It started on a Friday. She had walked in the door surrounded by a cloud of lavender and lilies, her hair flowing down all around her upper body. Twirling around in the middle of the room, she proudly displayed the results of her shopping trip. A short leather jacket in a deep blue color, hugging her breasts so tightly that I could see the shadows of her nipples. I felt a stirring down below, and immediately moved towards her from my position on the bed. She wriggled out of my grasp and shook her head, telling me that she was late for a party. I felt disappointed, but knew that there was no point in trying to stop her. As I was thinking this, she bent over to pick up her shoes from the floor. And that was the moment I knew it was over.

If there was anything I ever knew about the woman that had invaded my life, my head, my heart, it was her traditions. She always spent Christmas Eve with her friends, she always went to McDonald`s with a bottle of red when she wanted to celebrate, and she always ended her relationships with the same gesture.

My breath came in shorter, making me twist my body in panic. I watched in horror as the chair in the corner, the vase on table, the remote control and everything else in the room melted into one. From somewhere far away, I heard a sound. She was giggling.