There is no escape, he whispered.
He crawled out of the bed and trudged to the bathroom. It's going to be a long day today and an even longer night.
She hadn't taken his call. He hadn't wondered why.
It's more like a routine anyway.
Drenched in sweat, sprawled across the bed, she would probably be watching her partner from last night break out of sleep. And she would be wondering if he is the one.
It's the same story from which there is no escape.
He bathed and dressed like every day. Like everyday he took his car out and checked for petrol. And like everyday, he grumbled about the traffic as he drove to work. And like every day, he idled away his time thinking of her.
He imagined her before him, under him, above him.
He thought of the only time she came close to kissing him; the only time he was allowed to touch her.
He thought of the only time his brain exploded when he left her place for the last time.
And like everyday, she lay alone on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if it was the right shade of white. And like every other day, tears were rolling down her face as the man she just had sex with forgot to kiss her goodbye. And her heart broke like fragile china as she knew she would never see him again.
And like everyday, she got up, cleaned up and drowned herself in work.
Memories from a distant past were erased. At least, for the time being.
Two faces. Two names. Same city.
A cringing pain. An unsolicited failure.
A relationship ending because it had no time to begin.
A pathetic illusion from which there is no light.
A song which has no tune or verse.
A life from which there is no escape.