Split 

Room in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC

Shadows watched from the corners of the room… ever present, ever vigilant. 

She waited.

Footsteps in the hallway. Raucous laughter. 

The door flung open and he stumbled in, drunk, clinging to the arm of a woman.

Who was it this time? 

It was hard to see clearly in the dim light. 

Her.

Their eyes met for a long moment. Silent words passing between them. Then she turned her attention back to him, allowing him to undress her. He fumbled. The process took much longer than it should have. 

Naked.

She glanced at the mirror again, seeing the other woman once more, the one who looked like her but was more charming, the one whose laughter came more easily. She was the one who was not ashamed of being naked, the one who demanded love and attention from everyone.

The drugs made her beautiful and charismatic. She knew the flame could not burn this high for very long. It would go out soon, extinguishing her in the process.

But it was worth it. 

Every day was worth the price to avoid the loneliness again.

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56 thoughts on “Split 

  1. Pingback: Blogger’s Recognition Award | pennyforyourthotsblog

  2. Thank you for following my blog. Your story was fantastic. At first, I thought the guy was bringing home another woman. My first thought was, “what a jerk.” I read the story twice to get everything concerning loneliness, drugs, and the woman looking at her self, and what she had become. Really good.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There description of “the other woman, the one who looked like her but was more charming . . .” is telling, and easy to relate to. I think loneliness is only part of the story, perhaps more a result of the problem than a cause. Makes me think about the whole issue of self image and how it is formed. Complicated.

    Liked by 1 person

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