la vie en rose

By himself in the empty house. Earlier, he had emptied his heart out over dinner. Alone. As was the routine. 

Routine.

Walks in the park with Ellie, his imaginary golden retriever. He detested people who would stare at him strangely. Didn’t they understand that Ellie needed to be kept on a leash? She had a gentle spirit, but she was also very protective. The smallest of provocation might elicit an attack. He was doing this for their own safety, damn it. Maybe he should let her loose on the next person to stare at him. That would teach them.

Thursday movie nights, his secret life. He always bought three seats, so that he wouldn’t have to share his space. Always booked online, so he didn’t have to suffer the indignity of queueing up. And always, always, the first one in the theater and the last one out. 

Dinners alone. Just like the one he had earlier. Only this time, he had bawled his eyes out and sobbed incessantly over his bowl of soup and scared the waitress. 

Routine. 

He had thought of breaking the monotony of his life before. To be free of schedules, time, appointments, obligations. To be released and to feel free. He wondered what that would feel like. But he was too afraid of change. No, empty is good. Routine is better. When you can’t feel, you can’t hurt.