She started to raise her hand in farewell, but abruptly stopped the motion. What use would it be anyway, he wouldn’t stay. They never do, so she stands there alone yet again. How is it that this keeps happening? She wants to run to him, wants to give herself over to his world and experience the fulfillment that he has offered oh so briefly.
It isn’t as if she isn’t an attractive woman. She has good taste in music and a heart as large as any could want. Her hair, though not long, was a striking shade of brown with a light curl towards the bottom. And her body…her body is simply amazing with a divers lines and a dancer’s grace. Over the floor she floats from one foot to the next, beauty in motion. Of all her features, her deep green eyes light the path to the untapped depths of her soul.
Yes she was crafted to please the eye, and stir the imagination. She, like Helena of troy, should be the match head struck, sparking a bonfire in those around her, but she always felt wanting… unfulfilled. With each day it became more evident that the spark needed to be delivered another way.
Over and over they came. At times there were two or more. Sometimes, but not often, one would come back twice in a single day. One summer the same man came every day, almost four months before he too left. That was a hard one for her. Not as often were the women…and that brought shame, say no? No wasn’t something she had in her…they came and left the same as the men.
It usually started the same; every day…The cat’s ear would perk up. The sound of a car, or truck door slamming shut would echo through the home. At first she felt immense excitement. Blood racing and nerves tingling she would think to herself, finally I have company, someone to feel with, someone to talk to. Footsteps would be the next to fly across her nerve. Mouth going dry she would walk to the door, to invite them in, to say hi, or to shout that she wants more!
But it stayed the same…they come, and then leave her behind. All her whispered pleas and tears leaving them unmoved, they would go.
Again for the ten thousandth time she lowered her hand, plea unanswered. Again for the ten thousandth time they left unaware of the need in her. Again she stands behind her unopened door as the mail man leaves his package on the porch, she wishing she could speak to him, to anyone. He leaves never knowing he was watched the whole time, they never do.
Again she stands behind the unopened door; a door that hadn’t opened in years…wishing that the world was fair…It isn’t like I don’t have anything to offer them…………………..
Chris McQueeney 4/30/12 3:09 P.M.
The above story is fiction and any resemblance to actual people or places is a mere Coincidence so chill the f out...
the photo courtesy of yo mama...no actually it was from bing images!