He leaned back onto the bed, hands behind his head. She too, leaned back on the bed, hands behind her head, right beside him, their elbows touching.
They said not a word to each other, both lost in their own thoughts, in their own world. They have been friends for two years and it seems that they were immensely attracted to each other, but for some reason, nothing ever happened between them. Their relationship was just like how they were in bed, in close proximity, slightly touching but never intertwining.
They were both characters of restraint, each for their own reasons. She wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to be kissed. Why was it sometimes so hard for two people to give love or for that matter lust a chance? It seemed the more the attraction, the harder it was for sparks to fly.
Finally, she sat up and moved off the bed. He held his position, calmly, without saying anything, without doing anything. Ironically, that was exactly why she adored him, for his steadfast calmness.
She put on her trench coat, and got ready to leave. She was willing and able to move on.
“Vanessa?” He said gently and softly.
“Yes?”
“Should I walk you to your car?”
“No, I’m alright. I’ll see you around, maybe. Bye.”
“Bye.”
After she left, he reached for his guitar and began humming a tune:
Out she went and in came loneliness
She said she loves him
He thought,
I’m just a man
Who needs no strings to tie me down
He loves her
But he prefers his journey
Without a ride
After all, we are all alone
After all, we are all alone
