Thirty Six

v e r n o n

“Do you still like me?” Her question rang in my ears.

I swallowed a bitter bile in my throat. How ironic is that, to ask me as if I’ve ever stopped. As I ever could.

“No.” I said, staying eye to eye with the ceiling. My voice, deep and tremulous, almost revealed the unconcealable truth. 

No. I no longer like her. Like is too shallow a word compared to what I behold for her. 

“Oh, okay.” Catherine uttered too softly, unconcerned but almost dismayed. 

I took a sharp inhale. My chest’s a thousand-pound heavy. The atmosphere around is blanketed in intensity that I couldn’t gather my wits. Maybe it’s the sanguine luminescence in the red-dimmed room that is intended to be lusty but instead is waking all of my caged feelings for her. Red with her is not the color of lust nor danger or heat but of intense passion, and god knows how