“it seems hardly right,” she said as she poured herself a tall glass of Coke, “to feel sad and long so deeply for something I’ve already experienced that most people never will in a lifetime.” she put the Coke back in the fridge and allowed the door to close a bit harder than she should’ve. “it seems unfair to sound so goddamn entitled. so selfish. so fucking whiney.”
he listened from behind his computer but didn’t look up at her. this pissed her off even more.
“what do you think? fucking say something. it’s ridiculous that I’m sad, right? it was a year ago today that we left and I had to be reminded of that right in the middle of a goddamn crisis at work, where I’m stuck in a cubicle all day and just want to run. I WANT TO RUN! do you hear me? the sun is shining and I want to run.”
of course he heard her. the neighbors probably could hear her and the dog already had run to hide upstairs. but he isn’t one to participate her woeful attacks.
“it’s wanderlust. that’s absolutely what this is. the struggle is real. I say this honestly and I mean it with every fiber of my being, and yet, while I want to cry, I just have to laugh at how damn ridiculous it sounds. I have a bad case of wanderlust and it’s causing me true aches and pains. I can feel it. seriously. I might have to call a doctor.”
she laughed at herself as she downed the Coke and put the glass down a bit harder than she should’ve. but he knew she was right. he wanted it too. but since his not-so-distant plans included a couple (or few? he hadn’t decided) weeks in Europe, over her birthday, to boot, he couldn’t truthfully feel that same longing. he was about to escape, after all. so instead, he just looked at her.
“I hate you with the strength of a thousand suns,” she said.
and in the moment, she meant it.*
here’s New Zealand. one year ago.
* some or none of this conversation actually happened for real, outside of my head. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.