Today she’s not speaking with me.
I say not speaking, I mean we are speaking but we’re just not communicating.
The bare minimum words to get through the day.
Enough to issue a command or order,
But not enough to let me know if she still cares.
It’s at moments like these when my mind starts to spark off wild ideas and accusation.
But to be fair, some people have moments when they simply don’t want to speak.
They have nothing to say.
They are feeling nothing new or special.
Therefore, nothing to express.
Then, of course, there is the other side of the story.
The fact that she’s just woken up.
The fact that she didn’t sleep well last night.
The fact that she’s late for work.
Her mind is on other things.
Her mind is on other more important things.
Her mind is on other places.
Other times.
Other responsibilities.
Other people.
Other men.
[Beat]
Another man.
But who? Which?
One from the past or one from the present?
Maybe she’s thinking about the other me?
Maybe she’s looking for him?
After all, I’m still trying to find the old me.
I woke up one morning and I discovered that I had run away and deserted me.
I left nothing but a simple note.
And it just said:
“I’m not who I used to be and I’ve been denying that for too long. I can’t keep on living this lie and that is why I’m leaving. I’m sorry, but at least we had some good times. Good luck for the future. Yours Sincerely, You.”
I guess I could have run out after me.
But I didn’t know where I was going.
Who I’d be staying with.
So I just let me leave.
I was so embarrassed that I had left me that I couldn’t tell anyone.
I just tried to carry on my day as if nothing had happened.
As if everything was still fine.
I carried on the same routine.
I would talk to friends, family and colleagues about me as if we were still together.
But all the time, in the back of my head,
I knew I had left a long time ago.
It wasn’t until this morning that I wondered if she had found out too.
Maybe someone had told her?
Maybe she had seen me walking through the park when I was at home?
Maybe she had even met up with me for coffee to try and sort things out between me, myself and I?
And maybe, when she sat there sipping her mocaccino and looking into my eyes,
She realised something.
She realised that all along she was never in love with me.
She was in love with who I was.
And there she was.
Sitting opposite the old me.
Drinking coffee.
Listening to jokes.
Smiling.
Laughing.
And for the first time in weeks,
She was happy again.
Or maybe,
Perhaps,
She was just tired and late for work,
And all this was just dancing around in my mind,
Making me sick for no reason.