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No Children

She’s across the room, just breathing, with her back turned to me. Faking like she’s asleep. But I know she’s not. You know, somehow, if you have been with someone that long, you just know them. Even if you don’t care to anymore.

I set the route, I don’t remember what, just stabbing at it quiet and violently as the memory flooded back uninvited. Don’t remember what I picked, but jesus, Route 400, I hate that fucking college road.

I get up from the seat, and stand in front of the tablescreen for a minute before touching the old familiar series of options. I could speak to it, but I don’t want to wake her up.

I ended up having to call the C.B. to get it authorized, the number was 07 I think. That used to be my lucky number, but is anything lucky for me anymore?

I clear my throat, and tell her she’s welcome to come sit at the table, and that the food will arrive in 6 minutes. An eternity. We avoid eye contact as much as possible, and she finally opens with “I’m sure you’ve heard about me.”, “I’ve been making everything work out and I’ve found myself with quite a bit of money saved up.”

I looked across the table; it was ok to stare when being talked to by a still beautiful woman. Dressed in her black pants, and black blazer that clung to her, creating a vexing sillohuette. Her green eyes and short jet black hair framed her poker face nicely. Most wondered what if it was natural, her body, or what exactly was under the fashions she created, but I knew. It wasn’t a source of pride, anymore, just a fact that I sometimes remind myself of to boost my self esteem. The blazer was cut in an hourglass shape down the front, and had two thin gold chains, a small one across the cleavage, and one slightly below the belly button.

“Oh, I know that’s not the reason you’re here is it?”, I said acidly, “To brag?”

And we fought like old times. It was comic, to be sure. I caught myself when the food arrived. I just stopped arguing so that I could show at least I was in control. I suppressed a smile, thinking of how cartoonish we were, like an antiquated episode of Tom and Jerry. Only trading verbal dynamite instead of real.

“But you’re the only one I’m authorized to have children with.” she finally came to the point.

I hated how long it took, the screaming match, just like old times.

Now it seems it is all over but the answer…

The End

http://www.mentallyincontinent.com/article351.html is where this was originally posted, as some commentators suggested, I dropped the last line and it helps the story immensely.  Go there to read the comments if you want.

T