Cindy wanted to pick up groceries at the local C-Town, but Anne raised a fury, saying she wanted to limit their shopping visits to once a week, that way take less of a chance of either one of them being exposed. Cindy desperately wanted to get out, but was also hankering after her bok choy and pork dish that she recently discovered on some online compendium of recipes. She fumed inwardly at this restriction that her partner imposed, but kept her mouth shut, knowing it was probably for the best, and sat staring at a blank spot on the wall between a lamp and photo of them from last year’s ski trip. The crunch came to her mind, the mouthy sensations and the way they resounded in her head, blended with the flavors of the bok choy and pork, the garlic, ginger and soy wafting through her, and the way it brought pleasure to her entire body.
Pleasures were duller these days, hollowed, from too many hours of screen time, both working and leisure, the same stories marinated with deceptively similar details of the movies and series they’d been watching each evening. There were too many days sitting across from each other, overhearing each others’ work talk of various conference calls and the like, and those worst moments when they were both on the phone. The irritation of it all. They barely wanted to be together.
She stared so long it almost felt as though her head was screwed into the wall. It was quiet. There was a distant hum of a motor maybe a block or two away. She felt the warmth of her hand on her thigh, the cool of the chair seat. There was after wave after wave of frustration, of deep disappointment. And in between a glittering something that would begin to sing.