I inched my way to the door upon hearing her familiar moan. ‘Please God, please don’t let this be her revenge’ the door was cracked, and my curiousity all but pushed it, revealing the bathrooms hidden secrets. "Ugh-oh shit!" she squealed and withdrew her fingers, upon realizing she wasn’t alone in the room. Fortunately, she was alone in the room, though, my pride couldn’t prevent my face muscles from forming a well-known frown. "What?" she asked me, scowling, and implying that I should know why she was doing this. I looked at the ground, for reinforcement, and then back up at her. "What’re you doing- Why are you…?"

"I’m doing what someone else clearly can’t" she said zipping her jeans, and standing from her one seated position. I exhaled, and was impaled with yet another low blow, one of many, I’d recieved all month. "I’ve apologized, over and over again, I can’t-" I was interupted by her walking away, past me into the adjacent bedroom. Oh how this room, had witnessed beauty and betrayl, both in the same night. I follow like a puppy. "I’m talking to you" I offer some signal of my backbone, but hesitate to raise my voice. "And I hear you, ok? I hear you" she says and mouths her lips that I used to kiss slowly, as if I were a four year old learning a new word.

She stares at me. I’m still growing acustomed to seeing her with dry eyes, and her beauty catches me off guard daily, with each sight I’m rewarded. "Honestly, no one gets this angry over sex-deprivation" I say light-heartedly, half-hoping that my choice of words would stir her lips into a curl, or a much needed uproar. No such luck. "It’s not about the sex!" she yells, reminding me that she’s in the position of power, and just because I watch my tone, doesn’t mean she’ll show consent over hers. "I-" she lifts her finger to stop me, and points directly at my heart, opposed to my face, where I had assumed her index would make its way, if angry enough.

"Stop, starting your sentences with ‘I’, this isn’t about you anymore" regarding how strenly her finger was directed at me, I’d anticipated more fury in her words, but she spoke with a melancholy ring. I ran my hands over my face, until my fingertips brushed my auburn hair. "Here I was thinking that a second chance entitled me to some slack" I spoke with pure frustration in my voice, but would soon regret speaking at all. "No, you’re wrong, as usual, your slack- is your second chance" and you’d think her back had a mouth of its own, the way she’d become comfortable with letting it face me for her replies.