The Room
- You are a bit annoying today, Tom.
Olga arched her back, stretched and turned to her side.
- What? What are you talking about, babe? - He gently squeezed and kissed her shoulder. 
- Yeah. I do not want to listen about your past. Not really.
- Oh, are you jealous?
- No. Don’t be silly.
She looked at the door leading to the balcony. The heavy curtains were shut almost all the way; only at the very side the daylight was still getting in into the dark room. Out where, at the horizon, the sun was setting into the ocean.
- No. I am not jealous. I just don’t see the point of talking about it.
She turned to the man next to her but looked past him.
- Do not you like what you have now?
- Sure, I do. But adoration of the past does not yet mean a complaint about the present.
- You think so? - Olga put her chin on Tom’s bare smooth chest.
- Sure. What? You don’t?
She turned to her back. Her eyes stopped at the painting on the wall. It was a generic cheap print like most hotels have.
- No.- She kept looking at the print. -When I talk that way about the past, it means… I miss it.
- I do not. Whatever it was, I can still adore it but I do not miss it. It’s gone. Boom!
- You are lucky.
- And you are silly.
- I am not silly. - She starred at the TV on the opposite wall. - I think, I am rather… weak.
- Oh, I see.- He grinned. - You cannot let it go.
- C’mon, if I adore it, it means I miss it and I still want it.
Tom ran his fingers through her long dark hair.
- So, what is it what you miss, babe? - He asked in a low voice.
Olga pulled away and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 7.30 pm. They have been here for almost three hours.
- Since then do we ask each other this kind of questions?
- I do not know… I just felt like… you know, I know you long enough, and… if you want to … I mean really want to; we can talk about it.
- C’mon, Tom, I am not here to talk to you! Just shut up and give me a kiss.







 

 


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