A MISTAKEN GOODBYE by Anya Sanchorawala

A Mistaken Goodbye

TEARS STREAK HER FACE, accompanied with the remnants of last night’s mascara. Her lipstick remains smeared all over her deflated cheeks. Her crystal blue eyes that I once found mesmerizing fail to appear under the curtains of puffy red. Her long brown hair drapes her body, providing her only sense of safety. I stay over here. She stays silent. It is time to leave. The clouds grumble through the open window, only pushing more heat in between us. The air becomes thick and sticky, and tears fall from the sky. I guess everyone needed to cry. The bed remains perfectly made, unslept in, except for two small dents on opposite sides. The pieces of the bathroom door live shattered on musty carpet. The toilet reeks of vomit, and the small trashcan overflows with bottles of booze. Once perfectly white tiles are splattered with blood, with tears, with anguish. It is time to leave. Purple and black cover her thin legs, her beautiful stomach, her warm heart. Her eyes face the ground, perusing the floral printed carpets. All I want is to touch her, to feel her soft lips teasing mine, to examine her twinkling smile. I want to prove my love to her, convince her of my infatuation. I want her. I love her. Instead, I sit on the floor, alongside the smashed lamp, without a voice. It is time to leave. My fingers swell, dried blood as my gloves. Cuts from the flying glass cover my body. How did this happen? Where am I? Who am I? Who is she? Her usually empowered stance, her booming cackle, her defiance all seem infinitely far away. She sits opposite me, eyes distant and devoid of herself. She is gone. She has left. Why am I still here? What have I done? It is time to leave. The door of the hotel room, our honeymoon suite, slams behind me. The fluorescent lights clash against my tired eyes, making me squint in discomfort. A young bellboy questions my appearance with his intrusive brown eyes, but I keep walking. I miss her eyes. I step into the elevator, grateful for the solitude I deserve. Just before closing, a family of five steps into the crowded space, pushing me further into my dark hole. It is time to leave.