She is Bad for me

I woke up that morning and immediately turned to see if she was still there. Sure enough, she lay right next to me. Her face, white as snow, staring back at me, smiling. She never left my side. Every morning she would wait in bed patiently, never disturbing me, never making demands of me, until I woke up. And from that moment, till the moment I went back to sleep at night, she would remain with me. She was not intrusive, she did not require constant conversation. Ours was a relationship not based on words.
We had a mental connection, a telepathy, I would live my life and she would support me, comfort me, and ask nothing in return but that I never leave her side. And I knew I wouldn’t, or rather I couldn’t. I was hopelessly and helplessly dependent on her.

 When I was at work, I craved her, I’d arrange a little rendezvous with her during my breaks, I’d think of her while I was working.  When I was at a party, I would speak to my friends, I’d socialize as much as I had to, but my mind would constantly flit back to her.

My friends noticed how I obsessed over her, and they did not approve. They did not feel she was healthy for me. “No good can come of this, please stop right away,” they’d remonstrate.
It’s funny how even your closest friends know nothing of you. They did not know that without her I would not be alive. I had accepted this fate.

I loved her. I could not live without her.
And if I died, I would die by her hands only.

As I traipsed lazily out of bed to bathe and get dressed for work, she waited for me patiently, silent as always, lying on the bed. We left the building together, nodding to the watchman as we passed. The day looked gloomy and a light drizzle had begun. I considered the pros and cons of walking to work. It was five miles from home, but the weather was beautiful. I shot a glance at her, she silently signaled her approval. A walk it was.

Walking down the streets, I reminisced about her, even as she was with me. I could remember the trepidation with which I first touched her, my quivering fingers unsure of how to hold her, how to feel her, unsure of whether they were doing something wrong.
I remembered the warmth that flooded me the first time I kissed her. Any doubts I’d had of her being my soulmate were banished forever in that instant when my lips closed on hers. It was as though every feeling of pain, stress and loneliness left my body. She and I were one now, till death do us part.

I suppressed a cough, the chilly wind was getting to me. She gave me a comforting look, I smiled back at her. I was all right.

 Walking by shop windows I’d see her fair features reflected in the windows. Then I’d look back at her and I’d close in for another kiss. She never chided me, never pushed me away, her sole existence seemed to be for the purpose of fulfilling all my needs.
My love for her was so tangible, so apparent, that people walking down the streets could see it too. They had mixed reactions. Some would glare, or avert their eyes, disapproving of our public display of affection. Others would smile at me knowingly. I could immediately tell that they had experienced this love too. This dependence, this uncontrollable lust for constant contact. With her by my side, five miles flew by in no time. She had that maddening ability of making time fly by just when you wanted it to stand still.

I reached the office complex, it was time to say goodbye to her. One long, deep kiss and she was gone. For now, at least.

I shut my pack of Classic Milds and put her away in my pocket.
“I’ll see you when I take a break, honey,” I whispered to her, and walked inside.


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