The lamp infront of him flicked on and off. On and off again. As he sat there playing the switch, his mood was as capricious as the lamp. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke upwards. As the smoke billowed into the ceiling, he stared at the photograph infront of him.
It was a picture of he and his girlfriend. He swirled his thumb over her face and stared intently at it for a while more. How was he going to tell her? He sighed and took another drag. The picture was two years old. That was how long he and she had been together. Taken in a picturesque surrounding of Tasmania, he vividly remembered their first trip together overseas as a couple. Then it looked so fun, so fufilling. Nothing at that point could break his spirits.
But now he was not so sure. His trip to Tasmania had also gotten him another relationship. The smoke-filled pub. The smacking of pool balls. The jazz music. And the motel after that. Yes. The motel. The gentle fingers that touched his well-toned body had sent quivers down his spine. He wasn't a very expressive person but that night, his lover brought out the animal in him.
It happened with a lie. A lie that he needed to check out the pubs surrounding their hotel. His girlfriend was tired and she did not want to go along. So he went. Sitting at the counter with a martini infront of him, he soaked in the atmosphere that truly defined what a pub should be like.
Then their eyes met. He looked away almost instantly and he gulped down his drink. As he slowly turned around again, the eyes were still there. Peering intently at him. He smiled. He wasn't about to back away from this instant attraction.
The lamp flicked on and then off again.
The darkness that he felt now in this relationship made him yearned for his new lover. It has been two years. Two years of separation. Two months of societal pressure to get married. Two weeks of hinting from his girlfriend to pop the question.
As he slowly stood up, he went to his closet. That night had left him wonderful memories. And he kept physical evidence. His girlfriend did not suspect a thing as he packed it into his suitcase. She thought that it was one of his. As the closet door swung open, the dark blue navy shirt was hanging right infront of him. Unwashed and untouced, the smell from that night lingered. In the darkness, he took a deep breath of his lover's cologne. A manly and husky smell. And most importantly, the smell of love that his girlfriend can never bring.
He flicked on the lamp.