Microfiction: Swirling nobodies

The atmosphere was palpable. The man who used big words to make himself look clever was speaking. I wanted to punch him. I would of but, I was listening to someone else. Someone who drank expensive wine and had a bad haircut. The whole feeling was stark, it wasn’t realistic. Everyone was pretending. I wished I was at home watching Inland Empire (A David Lynch film) like I had planned to, before getting dragged out here, pushed into the starkness.

I sat in silence. Observing life. Knowing they lived their life and I lived my. We could never truly know what we were feeling.

I began to wonder why I had come here considering I disliked it so much. Maybe it was the atmosphere and stark feeling it gave me.

Because we were different. It was strange to know that. His wife could hate him and he may never know, ever he could die on his death bed in love with someone who didn’t love him.

I looked over to the man who used big words, I still wanted to punch him. I felt the starkness as I stopped looking at him. It was all so damn inherent and incoherent, all of it beyond damnation. The talking continued regardless of my views.

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