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Love is War I

The employee working the shoe department returned, carrying 4 boxes of hiking boots. Placing them amongst the other shoe boxes near the customer, she then began to explain why he had brought out boots one size to small. After the rehearsed explanation, she remained unconvinced that smaller shoes would truly benefit her feet on a hiking excursion. The frustrations of the two parties were felt; all the while, he scanned the many items the store contained within. Two aisles for hiking socks, another for underwear, some aisles contained all the necessities for a modern camping experience, most of which were unnecessary for survival. He checked the price tag of a popular woman’s black jacket he would get her: $120. His bank account read $15.

Disgruntled, he returned to the shoe department where his lover was still trying on boots. Somehow more boxes had appeared. A new employee had begun to help her, this time he pushed the ‘one-size smaller’ envelope further by lacing the shoes and having her stand facing downward on a prop sloped stone. The couple sat back down after the dubious display—still too small.

“Do you feel that?” the salesman asked, pressing at her crammed toes through the shoe.lady-in-black
Yea” the aggravated customer remarked, half-flailing her hands in frustration.

Her present company began to feel uncomfortably frustrated with her; knowing that the salesman was pushing his agenda too extensively, yet her exacerbated body language wasn’t helping the situation. The couple took their leave, as she had not settled on a shoe.

“I need a break.” the salesman remarked to the his coworker as they made way to the exit.
“Did you hear him? What an asshole!” speaking softly solely to her other.
“You are kind of difficult to deal with, if spoken honestly.” he lashed back at the ignorance of her body language and condescending retorts.

She stood her ground, knowing she was in her right regarding the individual size of her own feet. He was understandably aware, mentioning the salesman was in fact pushing his methods too heavily. After all, the customer is always right, as they say, and if she had the money to make a purchase, why would one hinder that for the business. Once they returned to the vehicle, an argument ensued.
She, stating he never is on her side; he, stating she is infuriating beyond degree.
The dispute shifts to offenses from prior occasions.
He, accusing her of laziness for not wanting to cook with him; she, recalling his dishonest deeds from the past. A discord of silence enveloped them entirely on the way home prior to the climax of their anger.

At her apartment no words were uttered, and yet the frustrating ill temper creeped.

“Should I leave?” he asked, wondering if there was anything to salvage, perhaps some sympathetic apologies to be shared.
“I don’t care!” she snapped back.

The pain from her comment turned him bitter and black. All emotion left him. Packing his things, the familiar thing of it all made him believe this was the last time. They both knew they were in their own individual right to feel this particular way. Walking out the door, then toward the gate of the complex, she strode behind him, carrying her canine compatriot.

“What are you doing?” quietly asked, as her feet came to a halt while he turned to answer.
“I’m leaving you, what does it look like?!”  they verbally contended softly, being as they were in between balconies and fellow tenants.

Her beautiful face welled with tears while his passions fleeted him. Be strong, act tough—you don’t need this shit, he thought to himself. Tired of pursuing him, she let go. Tired of running, he drove off.

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Devil On My Shoulder, Angel Adjacent

tormentA man had placed his hand on my right shoulder. The rings and watch on his hand play and dance in the sunlight. He whispers in my ear that he is glad I’ve chosen to disregard others, “Why bend for these creatures that would not stir for you?” Turning round to gaze at the faceless voice, he appeared in illustrious garments, a suede custom suit entreated anyone to believe him of important stature. He smelt clean; lustful. Hair sleeked backwards, bringing your eyes to his affixed gaze of yellow green retina.

She turns away. A tear falls from her eye, perfectly timed so there was a chance I wouldn’t notice. But I did, however. As she walks away, she doesn’t glance backwards at my moistened retinas.

The unknown accomplice hands me a cigarette and lights it with a golden embroidered lighter: “Forget her. Let’s grab a drink, my new friend.” His oratory flowed so smoothly from his tongue that I could not bring words to agree nor deny, but rather began to walk with him

Sitting amongst the sots, the 2nd drink came and went as quickly as the first. After some time, he signals a familiar woman to keep me company. She sits very close, she make’s men forget about the world. A reached hand is placed in lap, whispering softly into my ear. Estranged sounds exchanged, we leave together anyway. He gazes out, from behind a pool table He smiles, and I smile back, a curt nod is shared.

Upon awakening, I take notice to the ceiling, shadows move and patterns fold. Moving my head carefully, as to not provoke pain, a strange woman by my bed pulls up her pants, kisses me passionately with cigarette stained teeth, and swiftly leaves. He walks past her unnoticed, enters my room, lavish in appearance as last observed. A gloominess follows “See? Did you not enjoy yourself?” When I speak, the scents of liquor, nicotine, and foreign saliva expel from my words:

“I figure not. Although, I am still unsure of myself.”

Turning left, I take notice of the picture frame sitting on my nightstand. Me smiling next to an angel. The thought of better days resonates within. Closing my eyes, the memories grasp me refusing to let go, constricting the mind. I feel myself moving to the back of my mind. A hand falls on my shoulder. With eyes half shut, I take in a different man not recognized. He is tall, thin, weak in appearance, and dressed in unappealing  worn clothing.
“Would you not rather live for her, than anyone else?” a sweet love radiated in him. The sun had shone upon his eyes, lifting one into rapture.Words become difficult to bring forth.

“She still cares for you, she does.” he says. “Remove yourself from any equation; live for her.” The sleek man in the corner of the room proclaims that love is a weakness, “A sickness, like a passing cold.” ominous vibrations extrude form his voice.

The man to my left stands, a blinding light shines from his cavity. They glare at each other, ready for battle eternal. Shadows danced on the ceiling, forming many hands they extend toward the light. A pushing and pulling, splitting and tearing at the center. The fighting reaching a pinnacle, brings a blinding crashing brilliance. Knocked back to the ignorance of bliss, I am fast asleep, dreaming of days when there was fullness of heart.

I awaken, but falsely, feeling weak, somewhat sick.

And the men, but gone. “Just another dream,” I admit.