I can’t escape. I’ve been trying relentlessly to disconnect, to forget, to erase. Your sing song voice calling my name ever so sweetly, beckoning me to come.
“I want omelettes...” you plead, your eyelashes batting coquettishly.
I stare at you silently, wondering how do I ever plan to run away from you as I pick up a few eggs from their case. Even in moments like this, I can feel you prickling inside my skin. I sit in my car; I smell your lingering perfume. I can taste your lips in mine.
In that second, your phone rings, you pick up with unusual speed and answer coyly;
“Allo?”
Even you can’t resist yourself and your French allure. I give you my back as I stir the ingredients in the bowl. My thoughts are getting the best of me. I want to punish you. I want to hurt you.
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