The Other Woman
She stood apart at the other end of the room defiant, alone and resolute. No matter what they thought she would not let them define her. She felt the air heavy with avoidance, not that it really mattered to her any longer.
She was always going to be the other women, nothing could change this fact. Falling in love always looked better in the light of day; dreams become stand-in replacements for what could not change. Time seemed to stand on its edge, frozen in-place.
She had come to the realization that being in love was a funny exercise in polite manners and saying all the right words, as she sipped her wine, trying to avoid eye contact. She never expected anything less than what was being offered up.
There was the precise moment when she knew the price to be paid and the toll extracted for falling in love with the wrong person. Revenge and justice didn’t always end up being equal as she heard the murmur from the small talk drifting her way.
Let them believe what they want; she really didn’t care. She was here and nothing else mattered as she moved towards the center of the room and the crowd parted for her like Moses trying to enter the Holy Land.
Copyright © Steve Zak | Year Posted 2018
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