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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1136863-In-The-Eye-of-The-Beholder
by Malice
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1136863
She is in love with him and he is in love as well -- with himself...
         She stared at the ceiling above hoping that it would be the thing to console her at that time. But just as her blank eyes bore into it seeking a friend, it so returned the favor only mirroring the lost expression she wore on her ivory face. She dreaded the horrible creak beneath her and her nose twitched, suddenly sensing the rancid odor in the room. Being second to perceive the sensation, her mouth puckered as the scent wafted through her airway and settled on the buds of her tongue allowing her to taste all that was wrong in her life at that moment.

         "Whats wrong?" He asked peering down at her briefly, his dark eyes appearing glazed.

         She merely smiled an almost imperceptible smile and continued paddling away into her own little realm as he paddled into his. Finally, it dawned on her that it was very much like a carton of milk. Several days had passed since the expiration date, but it didn't necessarily mean that it had all gone to hell. You open it, smell it, but somehow, things don't seem right. The stench of sourness is barely noticeable in the creamy murk; however, despite your thirst, regardless of whether you will admit it or not, it's there fabricating the wholesomeness of the liquid -- and that was her life with him.

         A tear made its way from the corner of her eye down the side of her cheek warming it en route and she bit her lip willing her mind to take away the echo of the noisily creaking bed. He clasped his hands around her wrists, holding her down, and moaned into her ear. Again, she stared blankly in the direction of the ceiling and again, it greeted her with its cool yet smooth butter cream callousness. Everything was so sour.

         At last he pulled away from her motioning her head forward so that she may partake of his drink. The warm refreshingly sweet taste was long gone leaving instead a rancid flavor in its wake. The odor that had so suddenly infiltrated the room left with the same slickness that it had appeared. He left the bed when she had finished the task leaving her cold and deprived of his body heat -- the heat that should have been sturdy beside her -- the heat that should have encapsulated her as a cocoon does its inhabitant to make her untouchable and make her feel beautiful as he always told her, yet neglected to show her, she was.

         She sat up at last, her long dark curls cascading down over her bare skin as she watched him lovingly and regretfully, while he watched himself with equal admiration in the mirror across from her.

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