“ I don’t wanna be loved like this.” Eric said looking out at the ocean.
The waves were like a tornado, loud and all-consuming; He began to wonder if Michael could even hear him.
“This isn’t love Eric, this is an addiction. You’re my cocaine.” Said Michael.
Was that supposed to be romantic?
Eric thought about getting up. He turned to his right, away from Michael, and thought about walking away. He thought about it so hard he even envisioned it; really thought he did it. But alas, there he was, still in the sand, still sitting next to the man who was bringing him more misery than love and joy.
Without thought, Eric turned back to Michael, puffed his cheeks, and hurtled a glob of spit from deep within his chest.
The loogie landed on the side of the other man’s face with a splat.
For a moment both men were frozen in time; unmoving and wordless.
Again that overwhelming feeling to leave grabbed a hold of Eric and this time he allowed it to lift him from the sand. He turned, almost robotically, and lifted a foot and moved it forward.
The sand was like lava and the small towel he and Michael had been sitting on was an island of ‘safety’. But even if it met walking on hot molten lava he’d bear it so long as it got him off this sick merry-go-round disguised as a relationship. So, putting one foot in front of the other, Eric walked away. With every step, his feet grew stronger and more equipt to bear the lava. Soon he was in his car and on the road, never looking back.
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