At a Table

Someday early in the morning, somewhere in a buffet. Me and Him met. It was aweful.

How can he be smiling like that? How the f..ck can he be so happy? He's still cute though. We're standing in the row. After a few seconds we've run out of words. Standing silently, not knowing how to behave.. oh gee, that's so embarassing.

-I'd like a...

Finally that bitch moved away from the row. But we are still here. Should I go to another buffet? Yep, that would be a smart solution. Wait a minute! What the hell am I talking about? I cannot step back! Simply I can't! I have got pride too! HE should go! He's not supposed to be at the places where I can appear too!

His cell phone is ringing. It's his girlfriend. His NEW girlfriend. He's turning his back to me. He's smiling during the call, his eyes are shining like once....

-Cheeseburger ready!

Now he's ordering food. That sandwich is his favourite. How beautiful his moves ar, as he's giving the change the cashier. And his voice, his calm, smooth voice. I love it.

How should I get rid of his depressing memory? Should I leave? Like somewhere to the other corner of the world?

I should kill him. I could get rid of him like forever.

He's still standing there, waiting for his food. I like his long,black coat, it suits him well. He's taking it off, I can see his wide muscular back. Looking around a bit confused, like searching for something. Our gaze are meeting, he's smiling at me for a moment then pays attention to that paper in his hands again. I'm starting to shake. Too cold here.

I hate him. I cannot bear staring his back anymore! I should really kill him!

Putting my hand in my pocket, I found something that wasn't supposed to be there. A pair of scissors.

When did I put it there? Did I put it there?

He's getting his food now, he's turning towards me. I take the scissors and stab them right into his heart. I'm making a hole, his blood covers my hand, my face. I wanna drink it, such as a vampire. I would get new energy from it. Now here is the heart. The center of everything. I'm looking for a specific area of it. Mine. I'm cutting it out.

His heart is still beating. I'm not hungry anymore.

As I'm leaving the spot, I'm having a look at the people. They're eating, they haven't recognized anything. They are listening to ”I'm a slave for you” by Britney Spears.

Actually, I've always hated that song.

(Ágnes Farkas)