His expectations had been different. It seemed to him, waiting this long for a relationship to die was in itself an admission of mortality. We only have so much time, don't we? Elias rubbed his eyes. It was part of the deal, it was expected after all.
Cloe was smoking again. It was a nasty habit that she picked up when things went badly, or sometimes too well. In any case, it was only one cigarette, not a whole pack. It had been a long time, and while it is like riding a bicycle, it takes time for the body to adjust to the cool breeze of nicotine.
Their relationship (such a word) consisted of trips to concerts, movies, things that two people do while surrounded by many more people. It was to her as if he lacked the ability to go beneath the shell. It was all superficial with him, not in a sexist way, instead emotionally plastic. She felt sometimes like he was on TV talking to her, a link that worked mainly one way.
Fortunately it had been brief. It was something to remember to forget. She watched the brown veins of tar on the cigarette as she smoked it, and imagined it was doing the same thing to her lungs. Elias was just ash.
Elias was working out while listening to Giorgio Moroder soundtrack music. The pulsing synths and thudding disco beat matched his breath as he did his sit-ups, his push-ups and pseudo-yoga posturing. The music guaranteed that the kind of peace that Elias felt was warm, soft and bland. It crowded out the details of the world and gave him elemental simplicity.
He fixed himself a drink, and settled into the chair in front of the computer. He tapped out the address, and found himself on one of the dozen different dating sites he belonged to. He looked at the choices, and felt like he was in a candy store. Sweet and not a bit nutritious. Just his style.
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