Silence[Fiction]

We don’t even talk anymore. The saying that silence is the biggest killer cannot be categorized as just another metaphor anymore. He couldn’t say “Dont do it baby”. Was he listening to Boys To Men too much these days? There is a slight possibility he was but I am sure he would not want to admit that. Why would he? He had no feelings, he just appreciated the game. I knew otherwise - I knew him too well and this was just more than a game for him. He could not look deep down and admit it. What is so hard about admitting something to someone? I have seen him being more frank and straight forward on other instances, but I guses this would let his “guard down”. He looked gazinly over the room. There was no aroma, no perfumes and no he was not thinking about the scent of her hair. He was thinking of possibilities and where he had gone wrong. He was a huge believer in smiles and he knew she had smiled at him differently. I mean this guy is real pathetic right; I am not even sure why I am wasting my time writing such a story. Ah the paradox of personalities couldn’t cause more confusion than this. Unless you knew this person, you would never imagine the thought processes that run through his head - a maze I remember clearly telling him when I saw it. He suddenly woke me up - Summer of 69 had come on his ipod. It was time to end this post.