Roses

Click click.....tap tap tap.

She stares at the ceiling, wondering how high up it is.

The clicking is interspersed with the sounds of laughter. Both of these things are entirely separate from her. So physically close but mentally miles apart. Emotionally in another galaxy.

She tips her head back and breathes in deep, smelling her rose scented soap, savoring it.

Why doesn't he savor it?

oh yes, the click click click, tap tap tap, and the laughter, it pulls him away.

She takes a deep drink of her wine, holds it in her mouth for too long, puffing out her cheeks and swishing it like mouthwash.

She leans her head back and stares at the ceiling, sighs.

Click click click, tap tap tap.

The Blue Roses

What is happiness?                                                                                                                              

I'll tell you right now, I don't know what it is but I know what it isn't.

It isn't permanent.

It isn't the deep, musky, blue smell of him.

Well, you think that's what it is, anyways.

Until it isn't.

It isn't his hand softly, slowly reaching out to run his fingers down the very far side of your face. So softly you barely feel it. So softly you think you are imagining it until his hand quickly and heavily cups your soft, round, rose scented cheek.

I thought that could be it,

But it wasn't.

It isn't his words quietly whispering in your ear, telling you that you would be an amazing mother.

It couldn't be that, could it?

It isn't that deep, dark, glowing time of night when nothing can be wrong. The time of night when nothing exists except the goodness of you and him. Nothing is there except for that glowing perfection of what you feel.

That is not happiness.

Even though you think it is for the moment, allowing yourself to bask in the deep, blue, rose scented glow.

It is not happiness because you know it will end.

Maybe happiness is the moments you trick yourself into thinking it could be like this forever. Those perfect moments where you pretend it's right.

So perhaps happiness is pretending.
                             

Giggle Tears

And she packed up her entire life into her car and drove away.

Everything she had ever been was over. 

Life was new and fragile and ultimately terrifying. 

She looked in the rear view mirror a lot, even when she was far out of sight. Just one last look... One more...

Alone for the first time ever, she sighed and even giggled a little, tears randomly falling. 

Heartbroken, terrified and exalted, she drove to her new life, giggling and crying the whole way. 

Lines

The man and woman sit behind me talking overly loud, making me frown and causing the lines in between my eyes  to deepen. I'm always trying to avoid those lines, my mother warned me I didn't want to have those deep furrows that would age my face. 

"I love shrimp but I'm allergic. I can eat it any way."

"I used to be a heavy drinker but I stopped because it was beginning to overcome me."

"Do you know how to make flour tortillas?"

Inane, pointless conversation punctuated by strange, deep truths. Strangers meeting for the first time, stuck together by chance and random airline seat shuffling. 

I'm trying to sleep, leaned over painfully in my aisle seat, and now their awkward silence is making me uncomfortable. I can't decide if it's worse than the overly loud conversation.  

The frown lines between my eyes get deeper. The silence is worse.  

"I want a puppy, but they're a lot of work to take care of."

"My sister lost her baby not too long ago." 

"There's at least one Mexican food restaurant on every corner."

Details no one cares about, words that are forced out for fear of that sweaty, stomach churning silence. 

Now the man gives up and moves seats, leaving behind an utterly inadequate excuse for moving. His excuse sits heavy in the air like sour breath. 

Silence. Sweet, comfortable silence. I lean back over painfully and close my eyes with a sigh. 

The lines in between my eyes soften, then disappear entirely.