A Departure

He had not yet awoken from peaceful slumber, and so she contemplated her inevitable escape. Delicately slipping from underneath the luxurious sheets, she softly tiptoed across the room with conspicious caution. She caught her reflection in the glimmering mirror, and swept her licourice shaded hair behind her twice pierced ear. Her gaze flickered to him, comfortable, doubtless in the midst of a beautiful dream. He was too old for her anyway, she scolded herself, that should have been the first warning sign when her attention had first flitted to his slender frame across the clustered bar. Their introductions had introduced all the signs of the immense bridge between their utterly contrasting lifes.
‘Twenty four..just out of university.'
‘Thirty nine...head of my company.'
He would comprehend her reasons immediately, her reason for a secret and swift departure as not to complicate the already complicated situation. It was a departure from her way of life, and an entrance into another unusual branch of life she had not as of yet experianced. She wistfully dreamnt of the possible future as she clutched her suitcase with a force and determination that had never before been present in her fragile frame.
A sense of exhaustian swept over her as she heaved various objects into her suitcase with all the effort she was able to muster. Clothes, books, Cd's, the bare nesecities along with several items of no real consequence, gained throughout life due to accidents or otherwise.
Her eyes found themselves upon him once more, she surveyed his appearance with a critical eye, yet was unable to find a fault. It was admirable, he aged so well, yet she shook her head quickly, if she was to stay, she would again be plunged into depression and anxiety, his need to travel for buisness left her idle and lonely.
‘I am doing the right thing,' She whispered. ‘Oh, don't look at me like that...don't look at me at all.'
It was insufferable, she felt his gaze gently resting upon her as she snapped her suitcase. Slipping her black negligee over her head, she slipped into a black lace top and trousers with mounting aprehension. Her fingers delicately trembled, a tremour built up betwixt them as she lightly tugged down her thin top, constructed of little more than black lace to adorn it's fragile form.
Several seconds later, she found herself restlessly pacing the room, her light steps quickened as she scurried to his bedside.
‘Your eyes bewitched me.' She sighed. ‘They are my weekness...for god's sake don't open them.'
Thankfully, his eyes remained closed as she bid him a fond farewell. She didn't need to exchange any words, yet felt the need to leave a basic note which she propped up on the bedside table with a strong nostalgia that no time intervel could erase.
Suddenly, her heart leapt beneath her cheast as the phone uttered a sharp shrill ring which produced a sudden startled nature and fear as she quickly gripped it.
‘Please...don't let him have heard that.' She whispered, her lips barely moving.
‘Clint?' A voice said with a deliberate hesitation.
‘It's Carla,' Her voice shook.
‘Ah Morticia!' He laughed in fond rememberance, which produced a light laugh even from Carla for his ridiculous nickname for her - due to her apparant resemblance ‘Sorry, did I wake you?'
‘No...you nearly woke Clint though.'
‘You sound preoccupied...'
‘I am actually, I'm sorting some...buisness out...can you call Clint back?'
‘Sure of course, I was just going to...erm...warn him of something...you don't happen to be busy today do you? Because, well, I have a feeling Gloria's desperate to see you.'
‘I am...sorry.'
‘Oh, thats really fine,' Relief could be detected from his tone. ‘Anything exciting?'
‘No, something I should have done long ago.'
‘Won't keep you much longer...well, bye then.'
She hung up swiftly, the caller's relationship with Clint was fairly strurdy, and so the former seemed to think it nescessary for Carla to meet his wife Gloria on a fairly regular basis. Carla knew she would possible never have the oppurtunity of meeting Gloria again, and she thought with despair, what she would lose, and what she would gain from this departure.
However, it was too late for reasoning, or acknowledging the downside, so with a heaving heart she clutched the suitcase containing everything of absolute importance and with one last flitting glance, silently uttered goodbye.

***

Abruptly awoken from his peaceful slumber, Clint was instantly aware he was utterly and completely alone. In complete solitude, the flat seemed to echo his loneliness as his fingers gripped a slim piece of paper and quickly crumpled it. He knew the contents and the writer was conspicuous, there was no need to read what was already apparant.
‘I suppose it was inevitable' Clint sighed. ‘Just wish it wasn't today.'
He caught his reflection in the glimmering mirror, his deep crystal eyes pierced through it as he gained an insight into his soul.
‘I'm a lonely foolish old man' He thought ‘Oh well, at least I had a good time.'
The phone emitted a sharp shrill ring, which produced a nauseating feeling in the pit of his hollow stomach as his slender fingers clutched it with a peculiar urgency.
‘Clint?' His friend spoke quickly. ‘She's coming today...I phoned to warn you...I spoke to Carla, said Gloria wanted to take her out.'
‘She's left.'
‘Oh...are you okay? Strangely good timing...not that I mean to make a joke of the situation.'
‘It's alright, I knew it would happen, but I thought she was happy.'
‘She was...I'm sure.'
‘She didn't find out...did she?'
‘I don't know, you hid it pretty well though.'
‘Right, well, I better go, thanks for telling me anyway. When you spoke to her..how did she sound?'
‘Rushed I suppose.'
‘Thats no surprise, well, cheers.' Clint hung up.
Gloria, he recalled their last meeting with a slight blush to his sallow cheeks. There was a conspicious frisson betwixt them, and although he was slightly ashamed of openly flirting with his closest friends wife, by no means did he discourage it.
He paced the room, in a delicate stage of temper he was prone to lash out at the slightest prompting. He recalled Carla's face in a distant haze, detatched from all humanity, her charchol hair elegantly brushed behind her tiny ear, twice pierced, glittering studs of silver red or black.
Startled, he heard the door lightly slam as his heart lightly leaped in his cheast, burdened by his loss. Carla?
‘CLINT!' He heard a voice, presumably from behind the door.
How had she managed to get a key, he contemplated as he anxiously rose.
‘Darling! I knew you couldn't be away working for this long! My, it's a beautiful place here...aren't you going to come here...what is it?' She outstretched her arms. ‘It smells lovely here...you'd think you'd had a girl over! Darling, don't look so adgitated, as if I'd accuse YOU of cheating!'
With a regretful sigh, he stepped forwards, barely recognizing the wife he so often abanadoned and neglected to such an extent he percieved her as a stranger rather than someone he had exchanged vows with all those years ago. She would never realise working away was a lie, she would never discover Carla, and Carla would never discover her. He would continue to bewitch and bemuse most females he came into contact with...those eyes were everybody's weekness...what a shame no-one could see through them into the person he really was. His eyes really did contain all secrets of his soul, and no-one would ever crack the shell masking his true personality.