Stain

The table between us is awkward.
It's my fault really, mine and Ondine's. We make everything in this room uncomfortable... but mainly just ourselves. When she looks at me, I see what we were: the laughter and the secret and the crossed lines.
And the love. That should be there too, becuase I think we had that. I know I had that, but it's not in her eyes anymore. I bet it's in mine.
I look to the cieling to hide from her and follow the fan a few times around. It's lazy and decaying, just like everything in this too small, too hot town.
"Ben," she says. It's an apology.
I look to her and give her a mangled smile because tears never help times like this.
"I'm in love with someone else." The words are slippery and drip to the table before spilling onto the old carpet.
They'll stain, for sure.
I take in that golden hair and those puddle eyes and the constellation of freckles, and know it'll be the last time.
"Well. That's good." I'm pitiful and my words are a kicked puppy. But even that can't stop me from admitting that Ondine's the only thing that's kept me here, and I'm taking the next plane out.