There was some sort of urgency in his raw feelings on which he found pleasure in pain. Before he could say enough he would want more. The natural instinct about his raw carnal desires and an act made him feel sick. Ah… It’s such a boring day… let me do it once more, he thought.
They met in painting exhibition. They exchanged smiles and got acquainted quickly. They decided to have a conversation over coffee, in restaurant they touched each others’ legs and behaved casually as if it happened accidentally. They discovered that they both love classic films and European languages. By evening, they had drinks and then kissed goodbye.
He died. He was only 32. Somewhere he found some old people who were dead long before him and he shouted at them, “Did you realise the truth Gentlemen?? There is no heaven or hell after death.” They looked at him helplessly. His wife nudged, “wake up, darling, it’s Monday morning.”
“Oh, please don’t say that, I feel like a whore!”
He got up from the bed. She lit her cigarette thinking about her husband.
“Are you feeling sorry about it?” he asked.
“I don’t believe in monogamy anymore” she replied, exhaling smoke.
“Why didn’t you let me kiss on your lips?” he questions.
She calls him after a five long years, and says “I lied to you about my marriage; I was just engaged when we met.”
He doesn’t respond.
“…what would have happened if I didn’t lie to you?” She asks.
Quite possibly, I wouldn’t have been single till now, he replies.
She hung up the call.
In a deserted railway station, that midnight, she could clearly see the cold smoke coming out of her mouth; it was that dreading cold… but what was real frightening was her co-passengers strange smile.