Loneliness is an odd feeling. Plunging yourself into the back of your bed in front of a screen with seventy-five things to watch immediately solves almost every problem except loneliness. There is no comfort found in food and snacks, and he doesn’t care much about the unknown company on that screen. Sleep is unthinkable, and a book, if it is good, can only last for an hour at most. The only people in the whole world live in front of pages and pictures, eat cheese or chips or other things that everyone likes. All of them are at last confused by the flattery of the sugar rush or the pale stings of livid salt. Most roommates have little reason to be lonely, but I have the ultimate reason… .
His name is Blake. She is prone to inebriation, she laughs at almost everything with the same cheerfulness, she tends to trust anyone, she has the best teeth I have ever seen, and she has thin fingers in my heart. I apologize for the emotional puke that may or may not have saved here, but I just finished a chick flick, in the title of which I never knew and I hope never to know; then I can’t answer the questions. Oh, another thing that loneliness can’t solve: alcohol. He consumes the only good from alcohol alone, which sleep brings, although the intensity of his passions, while he is still awake, seems to make sleep a little less than worthy. My relationship with Blake is simplistic on the surface. We fell in love within weeks of our first meeting. Premature or not, I loved it. I know that one night at the Blue Moon I asked the waiter if he would bring a gift to Blake’s small table after dinner and he refused. His name was Sean. He was an immigrant from Croatia, a big dark old with a permanent broken nose, a kind smile, and bright blue eyes that I I always felt that I was too happy with Blake. Sean refused to offer a gift at the dessert because he was given a ring, en engagement ring. Blake must know I’m leaving and he doesn’t want to hurt me badly. Sean liked it. We always asked him to wait our table, and he was always extra nice. We almost (but by “we” I mean “I”) paid for English education. Blake told me that he liked his work because he could, even at our first dinner with him, guess exactly what he liked in his coffee. I wanted to giggle because I knew he had the same thing in his coffee all the time. The first night Sean made a lucky guess and spent the rest of the time as he knew it. Of course I later found out that Sean had spiked her coffee with Croatian vodka. There were no Croats on staff, so obviously none of them knew what he wanted with his coffee. The whole relationship went a little like this. Blake set unwritten rules with almost everyone, and almost everyone followed them. I seemed to be the only one who learned the hard way.
As I went back to my room the first night, it has this rule written about goodnight kisses. He hates them. We drank something, wine and I had a vod-coke, and then we danced to Dean Martin. At what opportune moment I showed her to the door, I weighed her ever so softly in healing and leaned in for a kiss. The night had gone on in such a better way; I even drew my fingers during our dances. She rested her left palm on my chest, and hit me in the mouth with the right. “Don’t ever do this again!” he had commanded. He did not, however, walk and knock on the door. She went to my cupboard and took out some 2% and gave me milk chocolate and thick . //e-info.vn/tag/heart-attack- symptoms”>heart attack. We slept together as in my bed, though sometimes sitting, and lying on the bed with a pillow in my lap, gently stroking my hand until our eyes were closed. It was not allowed to eat food in the present. He didn’t care for the smell, but that wasn’t the reason. His grandfather, whom he did not meet before his death, was a marine biologist. He wrote her a letter a week before he died, telling her not to pollute the seas and not to support cardboard box care. It will never last and he will be left without any money. She was seven months old when she wrote. He read it at the age of twelve, and watched his mother finish it. “Mom, Grandpa was sick when he wrote this, wasn’t he?” His grandfather died of Alzheimer’s at 87. He knows he doesn’t know what to say, but he honors the request anyway, and now I can’t eat food (or buy cardboard boxes). I could, I say, because I am here on the shore, another chick is already pointing and making noises, and I don’t know where it is; I don’t want to, though. I’m half afraid that she’ll just show me how to be smart, kiss her, sleep in my bed and walk I leave the next morning, and save myself a little money for the reward of the locust.
The fragrance of his love haunts me to this day. When they first met, there was a discussion about scents. I told him my room was to be smelled where I wanted to smell it, and he could do the fruit in his room if he wanted. I loved you; I strive for a darker personality. He liked the natural scent like lemon or vanilla or pumpkin. We came to Luceria from the aedile. His diet was lemon. Mine was a pumpkin.
He had a few friends who enjoyed my company. Unfortunately, one of those who enjoyed my company was a woman. I think my friend Lisa would have cheated on Blake one night if I had pushed the issue. Of course I didn’t know the push was there. I’m a sucker when it comes to knowing women and their standards. My only thoughts were centered on Blake’s mood that night. We were twinning with Lisa and the guy, a joker at my kitchen table. I wondered why she was being so rude to Lisa, and why she didn’t smile at me like usual, and why she just told my stupid jokes instead of keeping it to herself. Later that night, when Lisa was with her time, Greg, who was a real booty guy with a Law Degree and six clips in his ass, Blake walked up to me and kissed me so hard my lips fell. He laughed hysterically as he cleaned his chin, and told me of Lisa’s infidelity. I thank him for cutting and going to the bathroom. My whole face was shaved and I walked to sitting on the bed crying. She moaned to me that it wasn’t her best time of the month and Lisa wanted me to sleep with her as straight. I told her she was overreacting. She threw a plastic cup at me, full of ice water, which touched my face before I could stop it. My cut opened again, spilling over my chin. Laughing hysterically again, she climbed up the stairs to reach the phalanges, and placed one on top of the clean cut behind me. Then he put on three other bandages for the heels, went and took a blue needle, and drew designs on the bandages which belonged to the likeness. The next day I went into work wear to show them. Some of my students were impressed, but the shelves only helped spread the word about the possibility that I was a drinker. Oh yeah, I’m a teacher. I taught fourth grade English at a large school in Cincinnati, Ohio. It follows that I drive the nicest Toyota truck in the company, and if it’s fun, I tend to walk. I prefer walking to driving, not because the car is so ugly, but because walking makes the transition less awkward at the time. There are more to look at and hear sounds. I am a terrible conversationalist.
Blake was not a terrible conversationalist. I had no more words to say than six or seven hours at a time. She talked to Sean about once outside of his office. We were late at the Blue Moon, and we were lucky to have a slower evening. We didn’t have our own formal table, but Sean was able to be our server. Blake started talking to her about why we were late. The right gas station, not wanting to use my credit, football power in the city, no traffic lights work: he discussed each topic in detail. Before Sean could leave to get our drinks he stood there for twenty five minutes watching Blaki’s smooth mouth and words around. He had a very beautiful way of speaking. The words from his mouth meant more. She also twists the plot, twists false plots, pierces the stories at the right points, in order to keep the audience. His mind was working over his audience as he told the story, trying to fit his story as best he could to his imagination. The blue moon manager came from the kitchen and turned Sean away. He whispered something and Sean’s face shot up as he put the pad and pencil back into his apron and passed it all over to the boss. Blake quickly moved to them, and Sean had retrieved the apron within five minutes, promising that his manager would be more diligent. time Blake apologized to Sean and we ordered food and drinks together so that no one got lost. I asked her, when she left Sean, what she had said to the manager. She told her that Sean had spent twenty minutes convincing her and me not to leave after finding a hair in our bedclothes. She apologized to the manager, and offered a few more kind words for Sean’s excellent table service. Prodigious Absolutely amazing.
The fragrance of his love haunts me to this day. When they first met, there was a discussion about scents. I told him my room was to be smelled where I wanted to smell it, and he could do the fruit in his room if he wanted. I loved you; I strive for a darker personality. He liked the natural scent like lemon or vanilla or pumpkin. We came to Luceria from the aedile. Oh, his apartment. never mind
The last time I saw Blake was at Quinto’s art show in an old hotel lobby. He walked behind me and put his hands over my eyes. I turned around, confused, and noticed her ears pierced again. “You two feel guilty. They look really sweet.” She thanked me sincerely for the honor, apologizing that she had no time to speak, but that she had places. He walked to the door with a young man about six feet and two toes; I would say one hundred and eighty five pounds. I could catch him. I am only five feet and ten inches; perhaps a hundred and sixty-five. I could catch him.
write his letters. Why? I do not know. We are best friends as far as I know. She still updates me on her status every once in a while, what she’s up to, what she’s hanging out with, her new favorite hobbies. Most people know all these things about her. They know about his rules and how his voice is chilling to me and how he could talk about something. They do not know that she was once a young woman with our family, and that she and Lisa no longer speak. No one knows that after I finish writing this, I will visit the bathroom and lie down for an hour. He holds a little heart in his tender fingers, remember?
