Threefold

6| purpose

I leave the bar and just drive--to wherever my mind could direct me. But in the end, I wind up in the parking lot of my complex, contemplating on what I should say to Anya. What I should do and how am I supposed to resolve this?

How did I resolve all of my other issues in the past?

Without a second to spare, I'm defied with a solution, but I do not feel the splurge of energy I thought I'd get. My pace is much more sluggish than usual. Nonetheless, I arrive at my front door and enter. The room is nearly opaque and chilly. Besides the windows reflecting the shadows from the street lights outside, nothing is visible.

Faintly, I get an earful of Anya's persistent breaths and light snores. I crack a smile because I couldn't imagine hearing anything better.

I don't take my clothing off and I don't toss my keys onto the counter, which is a frequent procedure. Instead, I head straight up the stairs to Anya. There aren't many stairs to climb up, given that this is a loft, but it feels like the journey is endless. It feels like the more stairs I climb, the more distant Anya is from me. Is this another way of explaining the distance we'll gain if I refuse to do what's right?

After a few seconds of elucidating a proper strategy to explain everything to Anya, I sit at the end of the bed where she rests beautifully. Her bronze skin twinkling in the light of the night. Gently, I stroke her cheek and make my way down to her arm. She turns over conveying a facial expression of confusion.

"Hey," I render softly.

She weakly smirks and shifts her lengthy thick hair to the opposite side, "Hey, you're back."

I force a smile out, because truthfully, it's killing me to stare into her eyes and know I could lose her and it's killing me to smile when I'm mindful that I shouldn't.

Anya sits upward, mopping away the exhaustion in her eyes from both me and other issues.

And I'm frozen in time--completely frozen. I gawk into her eyes and almost forget where I am and what I'm expected to do. I am capable of continuing to lie to her. I can't afford for this to end because of my past issues. I'm capable of holding back the truth for extensive amounts of time. But what if it worsens who I am? What if continuously being untruthful backfires threefold?

Anya wheels her hair into one of those adorable hair buns and before she speaks, I beat her to it.

"Let's go," I swiftly announce.

"Huh?" She snickers as if I have cracked a notoriously humorous joke, but when she becomes cognizant that I'm earnest, she stops laughing altogether and frowns. "Go where, Cameron? It's nearly four in the morning."

I stand upward, gliding my hands into my jean pockets, "Just come with me." Instantly, I snatch my old leather backpack and stuff a few handy items into the largest sector.

Anya nods and I believe it's because she still knows I'm bothered by a dire subject. She removes herself from the cozy bed and slips on a pair of smoke colored moccasins. I enjoy seeing her in those bed clothes, because she's twice as gorgeous in a loose tank top and boy shorts. Plus, her slim figure is seductively sedating like heroin in my veins. I've gotta say it, who would've thought a ditzy white guy like me would be with such a beautiful black woman?

She grabs a sheer sapphire kimono, slinging the lightweight wrap over her shoulders. Afterwards, she stands and gawks around the brumal room, apprehending a response from me.

But my lips feel like they're glued shut.

"Cameron?" Anya inquires, approaching closer to the door.