The Bottom of the Inkpot

He stared out at the wet street. It was pouring outside! He walked into his studio apartment and switched on his PC. In the few seconds that it took to boot up he was letting his mind wander through to several rainy days he spent years ago in a different place.

Almost instinctively, at times like these he went into a folder full of pictures of this particular girl he liked, she fit in the frame of his thoughts right now like a glove. He thought of one such wet night. He had had a lot to drink, vodka was so good with great company, went down almost like water. He had not known what had hit him. She had felt the same way.

They got out of the bar and into the street. Walking arm in arm, in a drunken stupor, they climbed into his old blue aston martin. Our protagonists mind was racing through the events at this time, the words they exchanged almost echoed in his mind. He held onto them like treasures, lest he forget, he feared.

“I feel great when I am around you!”, he distinctly remember saying… he looked down straight at her. She looked back a, coy smile telling him that the feeling was mutual. Instinct took over. He leaned over her and for a moment she felt his warm breath. She inched forward encouragingly, he kissed her at first on the cheek, almost testingly. She responded by locking lips with his! He was lost in his very first kiss. It felt great alright.

He wondered, how many years ago was that? A stupid thing to muse over, to interrupt that wonderful theater he was enacting in his mind. He thought, maybe I really did love her. He looked over at the bed, his date was asleep. Almost a hooker, a university student who needed his money, and even more a wild night out downtown. Easy he thought, then erased the thought, embarassingly. He badly wanted to respect her! However, the truth, soon it would be someone else.

He looked back at the computer screen, he was sure he wanted it all to get out of this artificial bottom he had created.

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