Game

“Someday you will be proud of me!”
“I AM already.”
“Someday you will be even MORE proud of me! If you aren’t, I will force you to be proud of ME anyway,” she pronounced distinctly and expectedly, while her long red nails rhythmically tapped on the glossy surface of the black table. Her pale skin sharply contrasted with red and black. He certainly noticed it at once as always... as everything. The flames were flickering over her soft features. He didn’t reach out to take her hand. He didn’t move. Sitting in the semi-darkness in an armchair, he didn’t even seem to breathe. The wine gleamed ruby color in the glass. The flames of the fireplace were weakly reflected from the glass in his hand. She waited. And waited. Finally, after a while he slowly shifted his gaze from her hand straight to her eyes. He had been playing… She had been playing too. She already knew, like any game, it must come to an end sooner or later. Sooner is better.      


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