Friday, November 16, 2012

Third Wheel

At the table I sit, between him and her.
He fiddles with his phone, she timidly stares nowhere.
Their drinks lie untouched: hers milk, his cola.
He makes some small comment and I reply; she stays silent, giving a soft smile.
Time ticks on by, the remains of dinner cold.
He reaches for his cup and so does she, him taking a gulp and her a sip.
Silence is heard and awkwardly I sit, in between him and her.
I study them, one after the other.
She, fair-skinned, bespectacled, and long-haired; he, dark-skinned, tall, and daunting.
Polar opposites, so alike and yet so different.
He, whose heart belongs to someone else and she, whose heart will never belong to anybody.

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