Boredom
A series of short pieces by Ms Alisha
The silk tie knotted gently at his throat, as its hand-woven elegancy flowed down the front of his blue Oxford shirt. His fingers fumbled for the collar buttons, and she reached to help him. Her long red finger nails clacked against the small, hard buttons, and she slid them swiftly through the holes.
He needed her - she made his life complete. Without her, the apartment was empty,
lifeless. She filled the rooms with a vitality, like a perfume, that refreshed him after a
long day at work.
At first, their relationship had been rocky - the incident with the wig had almost ended
it. But gradually, they had grown together, their lives intermingling to form a single
strand. He had found her a job in an avant garde hair studio, where she delighted in
fussing over the clients. He'd continued to work in media relations, but had altered his
hours, to spend more time together.
Some of his clients didn't approve of his relationship. Then again, he didn't approve of
some of his clients. Alisha had accompanied him to a few of the client parties, but hadn't
really enjoyed herself. Some arrogant bastard from the copy room had said something to her
at the last one they'd gone to, and they'd left early - to avoid bloodshed.
He'd never seen her so worked up about anything before. Her long nails bit into the palms
of her hands, as she balled them into tight fists. He'd expected her to explode, the
tension around her was so fierce.
He'd never asked what the man had said to her - he really didn't want to know. But he had
seen to it that the copywriter was dismissed from the company. It wouldn't do to have
intolerant employees - they might upset a client.
Her nails brushed his cheek, bringing him back to Earth with a start. "Darling, wake
up. You'll miss the car." He kissed her tenderly, feeling the warmth of her body
through the thin material of her wrap, then pulled on his blazer. He'd just bought a new
one - at Alisha's urging - exactly the same cut and fit as his present one. Why change
something that worked?
Hurrying down the stairs, he stopped to look at himself in the mirror on the landing. He
made a minute adjustment to his tie, smoothed out his moustache, then set off again, two
steps at a time. Back to work.