Your Social Media| d.h

T h r e e

The work day drags on. Drearily, I register the sound of paperwork slapping on my desk.

"Evelyn!" I rub my eyes and look at the figure standing in front of my desk, her arms crossed. I groan internally when I see Eva glaring at me. Sure, she's my best friend, but her perseverance and pestering can be hard to deal with sometimes. Her furrowed eyebrows soften as she takes in my exhausted appearance.

"You're not looking too good." I roll my eyes.
"You think I don't know that already?"
"Geez, sorry. Want to go for drinks after work?"  
I consider. It would take my mind off Dan, but to be honest all I wanted to do in that moment was curl up and fall asleep. I nod.
"Sure. Who's coming?"
"Just a couple of colleagues."
"Give me five minutes to pack up."

I navigate the mess of my desk and find the paperwork of a new model. Shrugging, I toss it into my bag and promise myself to look at it later. I look at the clock as it strikes five, grinning as I congratulate myself on the perfect timing. I stride out of my office. Around me, my colleagues are leaving eagerly, keen to leave the dreary modelling agency.

The bar is loud and dark, filled with loud voices and drunken laughter. My colleagues are sipping drinks, already half-drunk. Eva has already gone home with a guy an hour after our arrival. I smile and watch her walk away, her glossy dark curls on her shoulders. She's the person I always envied. I wished I had her slim body, sparkling eyes and enchanting smile. I thought that she had a perfect life, until I discovered that she was in an abusive relationship. She was her boyfriend's personal punchbag. I was the one who convinced her to leave him.

I sit alone, draining a pint of beer. The cheap beer tastes bitter and suddenly my stomach lurches. I hop off my stool and run to the bathrooms, throwing up what little food I had in my stomach. Standing up on shaking legs, I look in the mirror. I'm shocked by my appearance. I look drained and exhausted, my blonde curls now lank and straight and my face gaunt. I am the exact opposite of what I was, what I want to be. My body is thin, hidden by a too-tight pencil skirt and a stylishly-cut blazer that ends at my ribs. My waist looks unhealthily narrow. My tall, thin body makes my self-conscious and I long to be my old self, thicker and healthier. I do not look beautiful at all.

When I go to the bar, a guy comes up to me. A few drinks later, I'm stumbling down the dark roads of London. His flat door opens and we fall into his bedroom, slamming the door behind us.

He reminds me of you. In my drunken stupor, his brown eyes remind me of your beautiful chocolate ones. His breath is hot against my ear, and minty just like yours. I can almost smell your scent, warm and distinctly masculine. I imagine I can feel the softness of your sheets under me. The moonlight streaming in is from your window. Your shoulders feel broad but smooth. Your lips feel chapped but welcoming.

Then I open my eyes, and you disappear.