4: Stumbled into my past.

We don't even ask happiness, just a little less pain." — Charles Bukowski

I looked over the script I was going to edit. Tired eyes trying to make sense of it. I didn't get much sleep last night and I felt I was coming down with a fever either from lack of sleep or virus contracted in my spare time(the universe always humors me). My head was getting dizzy and I felt like bowling out my guts, not on the office floors though. I have to really edit this manuscript as for two weeks I have been lazy, telling myself that I was in a daze when the worst has passed.

The article in question which I was supposed to edit was a boring piece, which talks about: Men's perceived masculinity towards dieting and how it has over many decades been the cause of the higher mortality rate among them, affecting the working force and doing more damages in undeveloped countries.

I yawned. Who said editing stuff for misguided writers who just wakes up with sleep derived eyes and begin to write anything they call inspiration was fun? And everything must always be centered around them; the working force–Men. I yawned without bothering on decency, Mitchell giving my one of her famous side glares, I return the gesture.

Ten minutes gone, the piece was really coming together, so was the bile. Sittings at my desk, my stomach was churning like if I ate something bad. It could be the spaghetti I had for dinner yesterday. But I tend to be clean especially when it comes to cooking and consuming food, so it couldn't have been on me. The bile rose steadily with my thoughts, threatening to burst out onto the tiled office floors. I dropped the manuscript and ran towards the bathrooms.

"Are you okay?" Mitchell asks as I sit down wiping my mouth after bowling out the contents of my stomach for nearly half an hour. "Your looking unwell!"

I turn towards her high-pitched voice to respond with a very snarky comment but the excruciating pain my head was going through at the moment defeated that intent. I groaned. I was really feeling unwell and it had to be now of all times. It came at the wrong time; I have no room to entertain a very sick me.

"You can go home and look after yourself. I will give the supervisor a very unexcusable reason for your absence", she assures me.

I mumbled a disgruntled thanks, feeling grateful and guilty.

"No need to thank me. I just don't want you giving me some form of infection", she mutters with a light laugh.

I gazed at her incredulously. That was not a joke and now I wasn't feeling so grateful or guilty. I don't have time for her now, I have bigger fish to fry. I practically ran out of the office, my bag hanging lazily on my shoulder. I ran until I was out on the streets. Turning the corner, I bumped heavily with someone, my head feeling like it was spitting into two, looking up to give the person a piece of my mind, my saliva dried up, words lost.

It was Caleb.

*********

Caleb. He was staring at me and I back. We were practically having a staring contest, he smiles, averting his gaze. We were in a posh restaurant. Sonia. It was a gorgeous restaurant located in the hub of the city just across Racks.

Caleb flag down the waiter, ordering for the both of us. He still obsessed with that; being in control. He dresses now in expensive suits and blings, but habits doesn't change easily.

The only reason I am sitting here right now instead of running home was because he became a hell lot attractive than back then. His jaw more chiseled and a well kept soul patch, he didn't look bad at all. But his personality is a mouthful. He had this bad habit of being a control freak and I don't think that aspect had changed.

Caleb Harold, my ex-boyfriend. During my university days, when I was young, full of beauty and life, I began dating him. I was beautiful then, maybe even now, with brown wavy locks, soft smoky eyes and naturally full lips people go gaga for nowadays. We just happened; he was gorgeous and loud, I was gorgeous and quiet, so we obliviously clicked.

I don't regret those days, they were my lessons. Being stupidly vain led to the trauma I endured in our three years relationship.

He was the type of person who easily got jealous over nothing. Always tried to remind everyone in public, that he was the "boyfriend". I couldn't escape his presence, it was haunting.

"How have you been doing?" Caleb asks. “It's been like what? Two years? Three years?

"Good, I guess", I shrug, my headache playfully teasing me.

"Yes, you I haven't changed a bit. Still have that snarky...".

"I thought you moved to Germany!" I interrupted. "What are you doing here?"

Caleb scoffs. "I left the country to go find my fortunes", He spreads his hands like all those boastful wrestlers about to fight, "which I did as you can see", he smirks, bragging to my face.

Well, something has changed, he became more arrogant than he really was. I guess it comes from having a fat bank account. I wouldn't know that sweet feeling due to how slim my bank account was.

"Caleb I can't deal with this right now. Ok! I can't deal with you right now. So, I am going to leave. I am sure the waiters will really like to know your net worth, so you can tell them all about it when I'm gone", I inform him.

"Stop being a little bitch and sit down, let's eat", He orders.

I get up, glancing away from Caleb's hard glare, my head feeling light. Caleb angrily gestures for me to sit down, I don't listen. I take a step to leave, my legs feeling heavy like if it's made of bench-press metals. I try my hardest to blink away the hazy fog that was slowly encroaching. To walk feeling like the hardest thing to do right now. My muscles going numb, failing me when I had wanted to act a most dramatic storming out scene. I looked towards Caleb's direction, he is no longer there, instead it's all black and white and different rainbow colors joining the frenzy dance, its drummer, the headache that's is currently pounding away withouts reason.

I wanted to tear up. Pain was all I felt, coiling around me tightly. And suddenly, I am kissing the floor like we are longtime lovers separated by war, shouts erupting all around me, probably my fans. I close my eyes in the arms of my lover and....

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