He would stare at the girl,attached to his arm,as if she had grown there.
Like a flower; more so a lily,fitting for a girl named Lillian.
She was lovely and fragile,so he had told his friends, ''she's lovely in a plain way, you know, the girl mother would dote over''.
And 'his' boys would cackle and taunt him, ''lovely lillian'' echoing over the bar while he'd chuckle. It was a barely audible noise that would escape his rough lips while he'd chug his third beer.
He could not deny, at most his lady counterpart,was plain, it was only lovely because within her plain nature,it felt homely. She was a suitable replacement for the embrace of a grown man's mother and everyone knew it.
Lillian was okay,features of an average girl,not ugly but not beautiful, at least not to him. When he questioned his motive for remaining by her side,it dawned upon him, he simply loved her hands.
She could cook,she could clean and she'd nurse a dying man back to health in a day or two.
She was brilliant and had labored as a nurse for a lengthy amount of time but his friends always said that ''Lillian got everything,except the beauty of a woman''.
So every evening,while he left a loyal heart waiting for him at home,he'd sit in a bar and stare at the grimy walls,floors dirtied by fights and some drunkard's spilled beer and listen to the tales of his friends adventures with various women.
They had remained bachelor's while he settled down and far too often was he reminded of this as his friends gazed at various women who passed by.
Each whom appealed greater to him than 'his' Lillian.
Eventually he began to crave these women,imagining their touch and desiring them to be his. The glistening limbs, the tanned bodies, wavy hair and plump limps would come into his line of sight and on spot,intoxicate his thoughts. In due time, Lillian was a vague thought,nonexistent til his night was over.
He'd wipe the liquor off his lips,stand sturdy and tall and strut off toward the girl of the night,leaving his friends behind,smirking.
Bad habits were developed,he craved the taste of a new woman every eve and stopped at nothing.
Not even the last thought of Lillian caged him as he would lick his lips as his 'type' swayed by.
It was true,Lillian could have never fueled his desire for her,like the woman who would lay beneath him,whilst Lillian laid in bed alone.
He said nothing to Lillian when she inquired about his evenings,
and a uninterested 'huh' would leave his mouth as she told him about the rumors that surrounded them.
So when Lillian began crying at nights,he was never there to witness for he was to caught up in the love of another woman.
When her frame of mind became violently depressed,he took no notice
and when Lillian shot him and herself in a classic love lorn murder suicide, the town called it the consequences for the sinful nature of a lustful man.
