"Do you think we woke up him last night?" he asks, taking a determined drag of his dying cigarette. She watches as the luminescent ember burns into nothingness, calling her gaze away from his.
"I don't know. I doubt it," she shrugs, eyes now fixated on her own smoldering cigarette. She fingers it for a while, trying to avoid the silence that permeates the stagnant air. They sit for what could be eons, neither one of them daring to look the other in the eyes, for fear that they might accidentally feel.

A thousand and one thoughts speed through her mind; the effect is dizzying. Does he remember it? If so, does he regret it? Did he care last night, and, more importantly, does he care now? She wishes she could answer those questions that burn so ruthlessly within her; she wishes she could muster up the courage to ask him, but...no, she can't. That would ruin everything, provided it hasn't already been burned to ash by the fires of painful contrition.


Later, sitting in the sparse room, fingering the sheets left disheveled from the previous night's endeavors. More heavy, stagnant air, more artless solecism.
"You all right?" he asks, as though he actually cares. She takes a minute to think on it; is she ok? Can she learn to forgive and forget? It's the forgetting part that's giving her the most difficulty. She takes a deep breath, staring him in the eye.
"I'm fine." I'm not fine at all. She looks to the window for solace - for reassurance. She needs to convince herself of the lie before she can convince him.
"Ok." He begins to rummage through his dilapidated, black sack, finally pulling out an equally aesthetically (un)pleasing notebook. She watches with want, with hope, with curiosity as he scribbles feverishly. Finally, he drops the pen and shows her the page: I'm quite a douche.
"How so?" She asks, as if to make him think otherwise. Yes, you most certainly are.
"I don't know; I just thought it would be funny..." he trails off, shrugging and placing the notebook in his backpack.


He's leaving now; she doesn't know what to say, what to do. He looks her in the eyes for the first time that day. Holding out his arms, she obeys and he wraps her in a tight embrace. A gentle whisper in her ear - "You take care." And with that he's gone. For how long? she wonders. That's something neither of them know for sure, for the answer may not even exist.