March 13, 2013

He wakes up that morning, his phone sending out a loud, high pitched tune to stir him out of sleep. He reaches over cracking open his eyes just a little, and with a moan he presses the snooze button flashing on the screen. Now half asleep, he notices the pounding ache piercing his head and how the sun shining through the window above his head is just a little bit too bright. A body stirs next to him, and Mitchel feels a weight lift itself from his stomach. Turning his head he sees the girl turn over on her side, her back facing him.

He's almost shocked to find their clothes are still on, but then he remembers the events of last night. Stumbling through the street with the ordinary thing that is Evelyn, he has to say it's the first time he's met an Evelyn. Falling onto the bed, expecting himself to take her…but he didn't. He doesn't remember why, but he didn't.

"And you looked so sad, so…."

Stupid girl. Stupid him. He almost leans over to look at her face, but he won't. That's what real lovers do, leaning over to examine the others face in their sleep, thinking how peaceful they look. He's never done that before, and he refuses to start. So he just lays on his back, his arm covering his eyes, and thinks. He twist and turns the conversation last night in his head, trying to uncover any secret meanings, and undertones of something he didn't catch and might find in his sobriety.

His last sentence comes to him, and he almost bangs his head against the backboard of the bed. Did he mean it? Did he genuinely ask the girl, someone so not special in any form, a question he didn't even ask people he knew for weeks or even months?

No I didn't, he tells himself. He doesn't mean anything as far as his life goes. He's always said things to get what he wants, always to lure them to his bed or him to theirs. Every sentence, every word, and every syllable a little white lie. He doesn't mean anything, and he certainly didn't mean that.

He feels the body next to him shift a little, and he's almost scared. What if she's awake? What if she remembers that silly statement he made in his drunken stupor? So he slides out of the bed, sitting on the floor leaning against the side dresser. He's glad he packed almost all his things yesterday before he left for the bar, because now all he needs to do is stuff a few things in his duffel bag then leave. So he .quickly packs the rest, not even changing his clothes or brushing his teeth. He'll do that when he gets to his next destination.

So running his fingers through his thick brown hair, he leaves the room. He leaves another girl tangled in the covers of a cheap motel room, another girl to turn over and not be surprised when he's not there. He almost feels bad that he doesn't pay for his nights spent at the business. They'll probably make Eve- no, her pay the bill.

It's when he's on another bumpy bus, his body weight shifting as it turns, that he realizes he didn't get her number. He doesn't have anything to put on his mantle to show what he's done in the small city in the south.

He's a little annoyed with that, but at the same time fine. He didn't really gain a prize worthy to show off anyway.

In the motel room, a girl sighs in disappointment to find the sad man isn't there. She pays his bill for the motel with no protest, and returns to 'The GREEN TOP' to once again stare in to space. This time she's thinking of the man's, Mitchel she corrects herself, last sentence to her the night before.

"You should come with me."