Post by Alexandra Bishop on Mar 14, 2016 20:53:20 GMT
"In Another Universe- M4W" 02-28-16 10:36am
--In another universe somewhere we are together. We would wake up and decide that the best use of our day would be to just stay in bed all day and talk and kiss and cuddle and fuck. Maybe we could be lured out by the promise of tacos and margaritas, but afterward it would be right back to bed.
But not in this universe sadly--"
The number 22 train was hardly ever on time. The schedule clearly read “1:15am,” but the train stumbled into the station closer to 1:30 so often it was a wonder the time was never officially changed. It mattered very little to the handful of revelers, 3rd shifters, and aimless drifters that rode it, patiently indifferent in the subterranean haze that hangs heavily on the air within the tunnels and platforms beneath the city.
Bleary eyed, Mason once again took up a seat just inside the sliding doors, making sure to sit no closer to anyone than was necessary. He had no interest in the excitement of the revelers, the exhaustion of the workers, or the sad tale of the near-do well across from him who had come so close to inheriting his family’s fortune.
Yet, in his inebriated state, it was impossible for Mason to remain unaffected for long. The swaying of the train car and sickly pale light kept him on edge. Looking around the car, disparate faces made no attempt to meet his ponderous gaze. Boredom slowly set in; another evening lost to time, with loneliness his constant companion. If it hadn’t been for the advertisement across from the disillusioned young man, his most recent failure would have never come to mind.
How wonderful it must have been for the two lovers hung in perpetual bliss to sit side by side smiling above the travelers who increasingly ignored their artificial romance. If the image was lower on the train wall it most certainly would have been defaced by now, mused Mason. In front of ageless couple two shot glasses sat on the bar, watery graves for small grubs floating effortlessly within the stout glasses. “You’ll know when the time is right,” read the caption, and as Mason took a compulsive look towards his phone, he wondered how much more booze 1800’s Tequila had sold because of this one advertisement. Perhaps, he speculated bitterly, it was no more successful than he was at arousing interest in strangers…
Nobody would say he wasn’t funny or thoughtful. He was no more or less attractive than any of the young men on the train with him now. In fact, those acquainted with Mason were as perplexed as he was. What parameters must one fit, what challenge must one overcome, to find love that makes the soul forget itself? 5 years (It had been that long already?) and yet each day was another slow step in the eternal march to nowhere. He progressed to new grounds and yet the fresh sights and new sounds surrounding him left him increasingly isolated. When would beauty return to his life? Would it? Could it?
There are day’s I forget about her, thought Mason. Between the repetitive mornings and wet nights, peace was only ever present when she was absent from his heart. In his 24th year, he knew he had spent far more time without her than with her, and yet the emptiness was suffocating not liberating.
Next to each other at the bar, sitting and laughing in their own advertisement, they had spent an evening together that the Conquistadors may have envied (had they appreciated salty margaritas and spicy salsa.) No one alive can remember what was said, but everyone there that night realized this was one connection that wasn’t missed. It was the opportunity we each spend our lives waiting for. An entire restaurant, an entire existence, was made whole for that one night.
She died 3 days later. It was an accident in a universe comprised of coincidence and chance. “Over-invested” was the term people brought up most afterwards. “How could you have known that she was the one after just one night? Don’t worry, there are plenty of other women! You will find someone else! There are plenty of fish in the sea!”
The train approached his stop without fanfare, and as Mason plodded out into the street, he reflected on the endless streams of meaningless advice people had offered him in an effort to console him. Dejected, he looked up towards the night sky, through the glow of the city around him, and wondered if out there among the countless faintly twinkling stars, across the expanse of time and space, if there was not some place and time where his love waited for him, drink in hand, smile spread wide across her soft lips.
--In another universe somewhere we are together. We would wake up and decide that the best use of our day would be to just stay in bed all day and talk and kiss and cuddle and fuck. Maybe we could be lured out by the promise of tacos and margaritas, but afterward it would be right back to bed.
But not in this universe sadly--"
The number 22 train was hardly ever on time. The schedule clearly read “1:15am,” but the train stumbled into the station closer to 1:30 so often it was a wonder the time was never officially changed. It mattered very little to the handful of revelers, 3rd shifters, and aimless drifters that rode it, patiently indifferent in the subterranean haze that hangs heavily on the air within the tunnels and platforms beneath the city.
Bleary eyed, Mason once again took up a seat just inside the sliding doors, making sure to sit no closer to anyone than was necessary. He had no interest in the excitement of the revelers, the exhaustion of the workers, or the sad tale of the near-do well across from him who had come so close to inheriting his family’s fortune.
Yet, in his inebriated state, it was impossible for Mason to remain unaffected for long. The swaying of the train car and sickly pale light kept him on edge. Looking around the car, disparate faces made no attempt to meet his ponderous gaze. Boredom slowly set in; another evening lost to time, with loneliness his constant companion. If it hadn’t been for the advertisement across from the disillusioned young man, his most recent failure would have never come to mind.
How wonderful it must have been for the two lovers hung in perpetual bliss to sit side by side smiling above the travelers who increasingly ignored their artificial romance. If the image was lower on the train wall it most certainly would have been defaced by now, mused Mason. In front of ageless couple two shot glasses sat on the bar, watery graves for small grubs floating effortlessly within the stout glasses. “You’ll know when the time is right,” read the caption, and as Mason took a compulsive look towards his phone, he wondered how much more booze 1800’s Tequila had sold because of this one advertisement. Perhaps, he speculated bitterly, it was no more successful than he was at arousing interest in strangers…
Nobody would say he wasn’t funny or thoughtful. He was no more or less attractive than any of the young men on the train with him now. In fact, those acquainted with Mason were as perplexed as he was. What parameters must one fit, what challenge must one overcome, to find love that makes the soul forget itself? 5 years (It had been that long already?) and yet each day was another slow step in the eternal march to nowhere. He progressed to new grounds and yet the fresh sights and new sounds surrounding him left him increasingly isolated. When would beauty return to his life? Would it? Could it?
There are day’s I forget about her, thought Mason. Between the repetitive mornings and wet nights, peace was only ever present when she was absent from his heart. In his 24th year, he knew he had spent far more time without her than with her, and yet the emptiness was suffocating not liberating.
Next to each other at the bar, sitting and laughing in their own advertisement, they had spent an evening together that the Conquistadors may have envied (had they appreciated salty margaritas and spicy salsa.) No one alive can remember what was said, but everyone there that night realized this was one connection that wasn’t missed. It was the opportunity we each spend our lives waiting for. An entire restaurant, an entire existence, was made whole for that one night.
She died 3 days later. It was an accident in a universe comprised of coincidence and chance. “Over-invested” was the term people brought up most afterwards. “How could you have known that she was the one after just one night? Don’t worry, there are plenty of other women! You will find someone else! There are plenty of fish in the sea!”
The train approached his stop without fanfare, and as Mason plodded out into the street, he reflected on the endless streams of meaningless advice people had offered him in an effort to console him. Dejected, he looked up towards the night sky, through the glow of the city around him, and wondered if out there among the countless faintly twinkling stars, across the expanse of time and space, if there was not some place and time where his love waited for him, drink in hand, smile spread wide across her soft lips.