|| The Room

I"m sitting in a room, "all this and I'm supposed to be the mistress".

Heavy curtains coving the overview window prevent the darkness of the night penetrating into the room. Green tea table and chairs stand in the front, easy for a relaxed Sunday afternoon, "enjoying the weather". Coming inside, sofa, table, media center, impressive not exactly in a good way, obviously things had been moved from the old place. A little bit further, solid wood dining table with six chairs, then kitchen. It is good hardware and smart design to a certain degree, very lightly used, but dirty glasses sit in the sink, maybe for weeks. The fridge and the washer sit on one side, a tad smaller than my taste, but believe fully functional for a family of young professionals. A balcony is then attached to the kitchen facing north, a working balcony, for hanging clothes, machines and etc.

It is the room, things scattered all over the place, utility tools, remote control, circuits, gadgets, cloths, shoes, papers, and everything one can imagine about life and work. But the room does not have me, although I'm absolutely sitting here, with wet hair coming right after the shower. Oh no, there is no me. I understand why I end up in this place, with the permission of the owner, and tonight could well be the time when I have to say goodbye and farewell. It is very hard on me, considering I may have asked for everything here and now nothing belongs to me yet I am sitting here as of this moment.

Also puzzling, my letters are exactly organized in a zipped plastic folder, on the table, could it be as there are no drawers, or the owner has prepared to return them to the originator? Not so puzzling is the harshness being in a dead relationship, something that breaks the heart, crushes the faith, and destroys love.