Nobody finished the chips. I didn't like it cold nor the absence of crispiness helped. If any, it made it completely awful. I set it aside on the corner (usually left for a couple of days to rot in vain), drank a can of soft drink lying beside the table. The urge to pee was unbearable, pulled the zip down aiming the glorious shaft in the tiny hole of the can, released the frustrations inside, and yelled out a thunderous roar. The place was immediately silenced. Finally establishing the much-needed territorial stance like a proud canine, I go back to my normal self.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.