The Last One

Matt walked to the door, slowly, but with confidence. This time was going to be the last one.

'Why am I so nice and accepting of this? I can't get mad and call you out for what you are. Anyone else would have discarded you. Not me. You still have a grasp over me and I am unable to diminish you.'

She got in and made her way to the couch. She was quiet. Didn't say a word, just smiled. He smiled back and poured himself a glass of wine. He didn't offer anything to her.

'No matter what happened, no matter what will happen , even if we never see each other again (and I am not even hoping) I still wish nothing but the best to you. I care enough and I hope one day you will manage to help yourself and fight your demons. I want you to be happy. I value you and wish you could see what I see.'

They sat next to each other. She went first. Talked and talked for minutes. Matt listened. He observed her lips and eyes as they wandered around the room unable to rest on his face. For the first time she was awkward around him. Guilty of what was happening. Matt sipped his wine.

'I find myself wondering of the real reason I believe in you. Is it denial? Am I overcompensating for the pain and rejection your offered. By keeping you on top I tell myself that it was all worth it. If I feel that way it must be true.'

He walks away as she continues talking. He listens no more. He can't. He was expecting this. The words that come out of her mouth has seen them coming.

'Or maybe I am weak and can't bare to be mean about someone. I can't say things as they are but choose to disguise them. I am proving again to be victim of my need to please and be liked by everyone.'

She is finally looking at him as he stands in front of her. She is out of words and breath. She was 'running' to finish her speech. No one is talking. She looks around for something. Nothing. It's Matt's turn.

'Maybe I am just emotional and I love to over dramatize situations. And what a perfect one that is. Me rejected, she a mess, me holding a candle to her memory. A boy wishing nothing but the best to the girl that broke his heart. I do love drama.'

He is mumbling. He hesitates to say what he has planned for so long. But he keeps on . His voice rises. He is certain now. He drinks wine and starts walking up and down. From time to time stops and fixes his eyes to hers. He has removed any emotion from his words. It's all planned and carefully executed. Only logic.

'In the end it might just be the way I feel. I can't help myself. All these that form me, form my attitude to this situation. I am who I am, I feel how I feel, she is who she is, thing are the way they are, I see them the way I see them and no matter how much I analyze them nothing will change.'

Matt is done. They sit quietly next to each other. She is looking at him but he is staring at the table in front of them. Without even thinking he picks up her gloves and tries to wear one. She mimics him. Makes a joke about the size of his hands. They laugh. He gives her the glove back and walks to the door. She follows him, slowly, but with confidence. This time was the last one.

Silver One

It's summer somewhere in a Greek island. I can see the white houses with the blue doors. There is something quintessential serene about these houses. Ours is nested in a village high above the sea. The view is breathtaking and the sea is accessible within minutes. I can see the village spreading beneath my feet, the port with the small boats , the fishermen working on their nets and children jumping fearlessly into the waters. There is a flag waving somewhere in the distance and music coming from above . The smell of salty skin fills my lungs. We are surrounded by other similar houses and I can hear the people, locals and tourists passing by, chatting away about things that doesn't matter to me. We have the house to ourselves. I walk barefoot in the yard just outside our bedroom. I am tanned, I wear no makeup and little clothes. There is a table in front of me with the classic red paid tablecloth and a plastic plant on top. The cold breeze makes the tablecloth dance and sweeps the leaves from the floor. My skin is alive. I look at the vines above my head. I had some grapes earlier on and I reach for some more. You can feel the heat but the sea keeps bringing a cool breeze up the hill. The sun has fallen beneath the mountains and dusk has settled in. The music stopped and the people voices faded away one by one. I stay still as the village falls asleep. It's quite and there is no light around. I can only hear the sound of the waves as they crash on the port. The sky is clear and I can see the stars, practically touch them. The moon up above the sea illuminates everything. The table, the vines, the concrete floor, the curtains and the sheets are all seeped in a silver shade. His body lays naked. Everything in the room is white, the decoration minimal and the walls empty. He is asleep. There is a book by the nightstand. Our pile of stuff in one corner and our clothes scattered on the floor. That cold breeze storms the room and makes my body shiver. I curl up next to him. The windows are open and the moonlight is peering though showering us both. The wind makes the lace curtain dance. I can see our yard, the vines and the dark blue of the sea far away. I press myself closer to him. Our bodies become one. We kiss.