CAFFEINE FREE

"i love the smell of physical literature." she said silently, drawing imaginary circles on one of murakami's hardcover still with the obscenely large price sticker on. "they remind me of an old lover, someone i could never quite get over." she looked up, peering at me through those dark lashes and messy bangs. i licked my lips but my mouth has gone dry. "gin?" she didnt wait for answer, got up and careless reached for the half empty bottle, took a swig and handed me the bottle. she walked towards the open window, the moon elongating her already waif silhouette on the wooden floors. "you know the one mistake i never made?" she asked. with her face turned away, i couldnt quite make out or gather a favourable response i hoped she would like to hear. gripping the bottle tight, the glass felt surprisingly cool against my clammy palms. her shoulders heaved as she turned around so slowly like a little ballerina in a musical box awakened. "i didnt let you down. i couldnt." her face was masked by the deepest shadow, her voice laced with tears and sorrow. in the still of the night, we stood separated by the old armchair staring at nowhere in particular, listening to the hushed ticking of my rolex.