INSIDE THEIR MINDS

Quiet

Kate

I couldn't stop my mind from wondering as my hands continued their descent. As his lips continue to move in tandem with mine I imagine his smiling face and his darkened eyes. Before I knew it we were entangled with each other and there was no going back.

I feel my breathing start to labor, my body pulsing from the overly pleasurable activity. It's like I've been running for miles and miles on a road to nowhere coated in darkness and heat. I could smell the freshly cut grass the backbone of the perfectly manicured lawn. I could feel the sweet soothing wind a comfort in the strong summer heat. Then I hear him moan and instantly my exuberant thoughts disappear and I am again back inside the elevator, as worn out as ever, the feeling of pleasure already passed. Afterwords I couldn't help but wonder why my thoughts had drifted away from him and to something so otherwise familiar and then I knew I had answered my own question. He wasn't familiar, my mind wasn't sure how to process what I had just taken part in, so it didn't. It moved elsewhere for that ten minutes, it thought of anything but my immoral actions. 

He rolled off of me and as hot as I felt I couldn't help but to slide my shirt and shorts back on my body still coated in sweat.

I could tell he was clothing himself too, though I'm not sure to what extent.

We didn't talk for a while, for which I was thankful. I wasn't sure what to say, and I'm guessing he had no idea either.

Instead of speaking I let my mind drift back to that silent road, the breeze whipping through my hair.  

I am not someone to usually act on my emotions. I set aside an appropriate amount of time for family visits and vacations, and seldom have things happen that are unplanned. I am an organizer. Not just in the ocd, cleaning way, but in the "an organized life is a happy life" way.

I did live a somewhat predictable life, consisting of eating pretty much the same food each week, visiting the same theater twice a month at the exact same time and working at the same desk repeating the same tasks over and over. None of that repetition bothered me. I knew what to expect and therefore I could never be disappointed.

As I sit in this dark, cold tomb of an elevator, I think over my choices that have lead me to this point. If I had gotten onto a different elevator, or had even gotten onto this one ten minutes sooner everything would have been different, everything would have been planned.

I also wasn't the type of person to believe in fate. Things didn't happen for a reason, they just happen, I truly believe that. Everyone makes their own choices and apparently fixing the elevators system in this building wasn't on someones priority list.

I now close my eyes and envision his sitting next to me, probably at least partially naked. 

He wasn't a part of the plan that had I so carefully orchestrated question is, should I make him a part of it?

Phil

She has been pretty quiet for the past several minutes and I decided it was probably best to not break that hanging silence.

I take my thoughts off of her and focus them on an other wise unhappy subject. My mind immediately jumped to my wife. I could clearly envision her sleeping soundly in our bed. By now she almost positively sleeping. I could see her hair tucking itself around her pillow, her body in a permanent hunch under several layers of blankets and a small foot ejected from under the covers. Even sleeping she was indeed beautiful, but the more and more we fought, the uglier she became.

I take my focus off of her and turn it to my son. He lay in his crib that he was getting way too big for. We have built, or rather I have built, him something more suitable for his size but he refuses to sleep in it. While resting, cuddling up with his over-sized elephant, he looked happy. He was everything to me and if staying with his mother will give him a better life than that's what I will do. Or at least, that's what I had thought I should do.

Kate was, unintentionally, messing up everything. It was one thing to argue with my wife, and make up 30 percent of the time, but if I  want a better future with her how could that be a possibility if there was someone else better suited to me?

From the second she had stepped inside this elevator my mind has been running with thoughts of her. It has been making up scenarios in which she was the one and only focus.

Is it possible that once we leave here I will not think of her again? Will she become a distant dream forever forgotten? Was her existance never to be recalled?

I inched my fingers closer to her and then feel them hit warm skin. She wraps her fingers around mine gently unreluctantly holding onto me. I squeeze them ever so slightly. If this was indeed a dream to be forgotten, I should do what anyone would do, make it the happiest dream I can.