The Only Vice

"The coat you’re wearing… Did you find anything last night?"

"I keep my belongings within the sanctity of my purse, thank you."

"Don’t you think it’s odd that he didn’t text? We’ve been sitting here for well over an hour."

"You know how he is; he’s fastidious about his shirt, and he’s been suffering a certain lethargy from work lately. You know his ways… how is your brother’s convalescence progressing?"

"Don't you remember the cuts on his hands? It looks like something that would happen when another person had been desperate and too rough. There was one between the thumb and the index, and the other one was close to his ring finger."

“I fail to comprehend why that should be your interrogation. Your sudden inanition regarding your own presentation is frankly distressing. We have been friends for years, yet you now exhibit such a lack of aesthetic concern that it borders on contumely toward our social circle.”

"I dress the way society is: messy. And you dress the way you wish it was. But that isn’t how it is, darling."

"Did you find anything in my pocket to justify this inquisitorial tone? Does our friendship mean nothing, or is this just a display of your own vacuity and bitterness?"

"I’ve just lost my husband, and you’re asking stupid questions. Did you show up for me? No, you were… but why do I even ask when the answer is written in the way you avoid my eyes?"

"I had a mandatory engagement. Before you place your superficial labels… it was a literary assembly of significant cultural importance."

“Melissa, say something real for once.”

“I…”

“Exactly. Silence is the only honest thing you’ve worn all year.”

"So I was right all along, you’re head deep in this performative thing. I am sure he made you iron his pallid shirt, right before you left for that book club. Did the characters of your books teach you about the heart of a man?"

"I’m almost relieved your husband is dead. Perhaps his passing was the catalyst you needed to stay out of my business… you knew where I was. Did you lack the telephonic means to reach me?"

"I thought the grief would bridge the gap. But you are still hiding behind those brittle words. I’m not wrong, Melissa. I saw the marks on his skin. I didn’t come here to be your victim."

"Don’t bother with that facade. You came here with a singular, predatory intent. I’m going to expunge your number and leave you to your bereavement. He’s dead! It’s time you finally accepted it."

"There was nothing in that coat, Melissa. But telling you to your face is the satisfaction I wanted. I want to see you shrivel, like the perfect flower you were. I wish you were a table ornament. But your husband made me the centre of his world when he was in my bed last night. He didn’t say your name in my ear, it tasted like night stars and woodsmoke, a flavour you’ve forgotten to provide. How is that for performative? Did my words make your memory stutter to remember where he was coming from? You don’t win a man's heart by being his servant. You win it by being his vice. And I was the only vice he couldn’t quit.

A/N: This story was a blend of my growth as a writer and my secret frustrations. I am finding ways to make my words spark more than just a fleeting feeling. I want the things I write to be memorable. As I search the classics to find myself and my voice, I give you this and I hope you enjoy. Happy New Year everyone! 🤗❤️