At the twenty-ninth floor of a downtown office building, Jasmine pouted her lips resting her head against her left hand. Things could not get any worse. Her desk was littered with piles of untouched paperwork, files and several books. Several highlighters, pencils, a mechanical sharpener and a pink for-big-mistakes eraser, were all spread across the table in no precise order. It was an unholy mess, particularly for Jasmine. A usually highly efficient and organised woman. For the past several months however, she seems to be losing her grip on everything.
At a rapid rate her work ethic continued to dwindle. She needed to pull herself together. She was fully aware of the impacts of her behavior, but she was not at the least bit bothered. She had bigger fish to fry, or so she thought. Again, she gave a loud sigh. She slowly swooshed her sit around, turning her back to any potential visitors and stared out of her enormous window onto the street. She obliviously watched little vehicles and tiny humans going about their evening errands. Watching passersby from that height often made her feel important. But not today! Not lately.
For months, Jasmine did not permit herself to ponder upon the events that took place that dreadful summer afternoon. When she picked herself up from the warm damp sand by the lake later that day, she resolved to keep smiling, to learn from their relationship-or whatever that was, and never look back. While she dared not re-evaluate that afternoon, she could not move on either. She was caught in a rat. Desperately longing to reminisce the explosive steamy chemistry they once shared. The nostalgia was overwhelming. But stubbornly, she refused to budge. She was certain that any attempts to revisit it, would open the doors to emotions that were better of undisturbed-for now. The torture she experienced merely from the idea of it all, pierced through her entire being, far beyond logic.
She had never before known such pain nor such desire. It was the kind of sadness that lingered on. The kind of longing that ultimately undoes you. Like a shadow, always lurking a few paces behind, her distress consumed her. Sometimes it numbed her completely. Often, she felt helpless, lost in the midst of cold deathly darkness. She was tired of the anguish, the frustration from always fighting her own desire. She was exhausted from that intense persistent sorrow she was yet to learn to shake off. Her heart was filled with bitterness and grief, like a widow mourning her beloved late husband. Only, Jasmine never once cried, not since she watched him disappeared in the distance. Lifting both arms and grabbing at her temples she pressed her hands hard toward each other, as if to crash her pounding forehead. In a strained wasted voice, she whispered.
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