Riding

I don’t remember what actually happened before the drama started. Maybe I just tried to make a joke or something else stupid. I should have known better. She got it completely wrong. I’m about to say “as usual.” The very last thing I heard was the front door falling in the lock. She was gone. So what to do now? Should I try to follow her or find pleasure in the silence which had suddenly arisen? What if I tried and caught her – disregarding her escape, would it be an act of disrespect? Even then, what should I say in a moment when words are the least appropriate way to communicate? Would I just take her in my arms and kiss her tears away? And then? What if she’d decide to come back? Wouldn’t we start all over again with this mess? I loved her, but I had gotten tired of the continuous play. In the end, I let it go and took my bike for a ride in the rainy downtown of old London. No one will be alone for long.