literature

A Recollection: Prologue

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Literature Text

Fake ‘Hello’s and forced smiles, the only thing that kept us going. Other than mandatory meetings and run-ins in the halls we did their best to avoid one another. It was like a bad game of hide-and-seek, where both hid and neither seeked. Ducking into my coworkers rooms, starting up small talk with his students, we both were players. Unfortunately we taught in the same building so that meant we had the same lunch and break room. Though this was becoming normal for us, it wasn’t always that way.
We were very much in love, to be truthful, once upon a time. Though I always said that ‘love’ was overused there is no other word in my vocabulary to describe how I felt. I still felt it, deep beneath the scars. He must feel it too otherwise he would meet my gaze. When our eyes used to catch they were full of warmth, care, and dare I say lust. His arms would tangle around me and his breath tickled my lobes as he inquired what I was doing. I often found myself sitting opposite of him in the mornings, chatting as we sipped our coffee and awaited the bell to go to class. After a few years of low key ‘dating’, at my request to keep our private affairs out of the ears of gossiping teenagers, I would wake up at his small apartment and ready myself for the day. Living together was a new adventure and I thrived there. The kitchen was always a mess and the couch looked well used as a result of my moving in. Compared to the previous pristine and organized living space, this felt like a home. We had our romantic nights which consisted of a home cooked meal, a movie, and close body contact (I refused to call it something as degrading as ‘cuddling’). Though at times we would butt heads, we worked through it. I knew he was stern and blunt but he also accepted my sarcasm and joking nature. Our areas of expertise balanced one another, he was an excellent mathematician while I had an extensive knowledge of all things biology.
But I can see I have reminisced long enough, for this isn’t a story of how we were, but how we got to this point. To give life to my experience, I assume you want me to start with our names. My name is Lorelei, but most call me Lori, and the man I am writing about is Monroe. We were high school teachers if you could not deduct that fact from the above. Now that introductions are all done, how about I start my tale a few days before Monroe and I fell apart?
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Leopardfire97's avatar
Hmm. Some teachers. Interesting...