Explosions

2

There's something about taking a hot shower after sex, I find relief in standing under a shower head hitting my body with a hot, powerful stream of water. During sex I feel as if the hands that are touching me wipe off the dirt they never could wash off, all over the body I've tried to keep clean for years. Their baggage piles on my shoulders and weighs down my heart. I have enough of my own baggage, stuff I know they wouldn't carry for me, so why should I do that for them?

For some reason I bring guys home after the second date, because only once in a while I get lucky enough to get a second date, and the night always ends the same way. We have some beers, watch a few episodes of a show we both enjoy and end up making out. From that I think it's obvious what happens, but after what is usually hot sex, I lie awake waiting for them to reach the deepest stage of sleep and sneak off to the bathroom to shower. The rest of the night consists of me watching a romance or comedy while eating the junk food I keep in my closet in the comfort of my bed, completely oblivious to the fact that there's a man snoring on my couch. I never really fall asleep, of course, I'm too concerned of my apartment and the possibility that the snoring man on my couch is a serial killer.

The mornings are always awkward, I tell them I have work at a earlier time and we eat cereal on the couch while the news plays. They kiss me goodbye, thank me for a good night and leave. I immediately grab my keys and purse, freshen myself up and take myself down to the diner down the street for a breathtaking breakfast.

"Well well well, there she is, the champion herself. How well did that touchdown go last night?" I leaned towards my best friend as she said this and lightly pecked her cheek before sitting across from her at our usual table. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows wriggled and her large hazel eyes widened with expectance.

"You always ask, the answer's always the same. He's handsome, it was hot sex but I'm not keeping in touch." Our waiter, a middle-aged woman named Penny, arrived as soon as I'd finished to take our orders. As Penny poured coffee into my beige mug Cynthia stared at me with her chin rested on the tops of her hands, expecting me to say something else. "What more do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired of hearing the same answer." Cynthia shrugged, exhaling a sad breath before sipping her ice water.

"Cynthia, you need to stop worrying about my love life, it's fine–I have it under control." I rolled my eyes as I picked my mug up to take a drink of my coffee.

"What you're doing isn't healthy, so I'm going to continue to be concerned until you actually find someone you invite into your bed and not your apartment. Get rid of the past and look towards the future."

Silence rang between us and my mind began to race. Bringing up "past" in the midst of this conversation made my heart ache and I felt a panic take over me. My palms began to sweat as they gripped the sides of my coffee mug and I could feel it forming along my hairline. Suddenly my ears began to buzz, the walls began enclosing me and my vision blurred. And there it was, the reminder of what has imprisoned me for four years. Cynthia could never understand the amount of pain I'm still in, she's innocent to it, never experienced anything like it. She's never experienced what felt like a lifetime of love, and she's never experienced what it felt like to have it ripped away.

My breathing slowed down and I began to regain my vision, Cynthia was no longer sat across me but beside me with her arm slung around my shoulder. A wetness trickled down my neck and I came with the realization that I'd broken down in the middle of my most favored diner in front of Penny who held her hand over her chest. The buzzing in my ears stopped and I was able to hear Cynthia whispering in my ear, telling me to breathe and that everything would be okay. On the table sat our plates of food, I pushed Cynthia off of me before taking my silverware to begin eating.