Swirls of white, with glittering smiles, the happy couple spun furiously around the hard wood floor, full of new life and hope, to the delight of the crowd of family and friends. Crystal cups of red punch, adorned the hands around the circle, a blush in contrast to the purity of the moment.
Slipping in the back door, his grey suit, pressed just for the occasion and quirky top hat perched precariously above his close shaven chin, he took up an easy stance in the shadows to wait. A familiar grin creeps across his face at my approach, a memory of our past acquaintance.
When did you start driving a limo?
Contemplation gripped his eyes in a far off gaze, his mouth clammy to stutter his tale of woe...infidelity had cost him dearly, a trist with a co-worker, both married, now only tentatively. Reversing course to save face, he shares tales of wickedness and wanton glimpsed through the clouded glass partition that separated him from his passengers, with an impish grin.
My heart shriveled, as if biting down hard on a lemon, seeing the man once revered, lusts tentacles buried so deep. I knew addiction's embrace well. Jumping from one flame to the next to avoid the burn, losing sensation without its touch...we give in to one more click, a box of donuts,one more pull, one more swipe of the card, one more release.
More. More. More. Until exhausted we cry...Until we replace our desire with something we desire even more, something better, filling the vacuum of the fleeing hooks. Giving direction to our addictions. Speechless, I nodded, excusing myself to return to the throng, my frantic thoughts unsaid.
Soft tired hands held the limo door open, amid an afternoon shower of birdseed, as the couple dashed into the dark interior. A secure thump closed the breach, sliding into the front seat he pushed off into his own river Styx.