Clothing can stain, color can fade.

Are you coming tonight" she said as she pressed the button on my espresso machine, making yet another cup of coffee. It was 12:00 AM. I sat there on my sturdy little rocking chair with a wide range of tiny cushions behind my back. I fidgeted with my cookie and aimlessly bit at it piece by piece, tearing each crumb and chocolate chip apart with the grits of my teeth. 

She set down my espresso in front of me on the blue glass coffee table and gave me an awkward grin. 

I placed the half eaten cookie on my plate. Then, I got up from my chair and headed straight to my room. I jumped out of my clothes and decided to take a nice warm shower. I let the burning water run through my scaffolded messy and unkempt hair. I put no effort into thorough rinsing with a loofah. Instead, I let a few squirts of the cucumber scented mens bodywash drip from the top to the bottom of my body. 

After I was done I put on some black pants and a gray linen tee. She was still sitting there with her navy blue coffee cup and reading on the loveseat couch. She picked up the coffee cup with her dainty unmarried fingers and let it kiss her crimson colored lips. 

She knew I was now in the kitchen. She eyed me up from her novel and gently placed it nearby. The book was upside down, bent, and resembled the shape of rainbow.

"I need an answer-"

"Put a bookmark in first, there's some paper behind you" I said as I pointed to the drawer set behind her

"The books not gonna break or bend or whatever if I just leave it as is for a few minutes, Henry please-"

"It just, It pisses me off, okay? Just do it." I sighed and responded

"Everything pisses you off!" she scoffed and grabbed a piece of paper and slid it against the book and closed it

"Done!" she said forcing a smile while raising the book.

I returned to my task of organizing my kitchen utensils. Clean forks, spoons, and knives all going straight in their rectangle cubbies. As I went back to the dishwasher to grab some clean plates to place in the top shelf. I looked over at my "girlfriend". She was no true love of mine, I can't remember why she's even here. I recall her being some sort of friend who claims to have saved me during a traumatic event. The doctors, the lawyer and the single therapist all somehow agreed to her saintful soul floating around me 24/7. Her voice, however, it ached like a seemingly endless urge to itch a cold winter's rash from the drying of the skin. She wishes I was more like her. She hopes I will soon get back into the real world.

I noticed she was looking at me.

"I hate parties. I hate social gatherings, I'm henry"

"Just because I didn't go to one party doesn't make me a villain." I quickly replied.

"But it makes you a social outcast!" She said while smirking and perhaps jerking off, texting a young college kid on her phone.

"You better watch your mouth, your practically feeding off of my wallet" I snapped.

She gulped for a moment. Time passed by and the wind played around like a kid and made a faint noise outside.

She picked up her handbag and headed for the door.

"I'm coming with you" I firmly stated putting away the last of my dishes.

I walked towards her and dangled the car keys with my right hand. She was still standing there, utterly shocked, guarding the exit of my own chambers.

Speechless she opened the door and eyed me as I walked out.

When we arrived at the house full of junkies, she was already beaming with joy. The sight of booze and recreational pharmaceuticals must have enthralled her. I wouldn't claim it as an addiction of any sort.

But rather the blossoming of one.

She jumped out of my black Volkswagen and ran to the front white porch already greeting the housemates on the frontyard with their red cups. Hugging, shaking hands, forced smiles, and harmless punches on the shoulder.

I sighed and looked at my reflection on my car's window to fix my hair. Although she signaled me to come over and meet her friends I conversed with my eyes that I was intending on getting a drink first. She gave me a shrug and a half smile.

I walked in and gave those who cared to notice me a brief look of nervousness. Then, I stared down at my awkward shoe choice, flip flops.

oh well

Oh, forgot to mention, I have this odd spiritual calling for lovely centerpieces in these modern homes. Fortuanely, there was a nice vase with some pink roses on the white coffee table, I sat down on the uncomfortable brown leather couch and stared at it. A horrendous taste in furniture

After being drowned by my own antisocial thoughts, I decided to exercise the limited amount of stocisim I had from those useless psychotherapy sessions with Dr Deliah. I lay my head back against the couch, going in deeper. I was sinking into this leathery sensation. I turned my head to the right side and saw a beautiful daisy scarf, it wasn't brick white but more of a stained run down white color. Who brings a scarf to a summer party in July?

I smiled to myself, laughing alone at my own remark in my head. Then, I thought again but this time, with a more analytical feeling, no one brings a scarf to a summer party

I used to buy scarfs for my wife, Katherine, all the time. Katherine was a scarf fanatic. Sometimes when we would go out together, she would bring along a silly little scarf and pair it with her outfit. She had ever pantone one could ever imagine. After a while, she would either hold the scarf awkwardly around her shoulder or arms. Or, she'd stuff it in her dark blue Coach bag. This was before she was gone. Taken away from me. I still do not know to this day if she is out there, all I have is the vague scent of her Chanel perfume from her clothes or her scarfs. Sometimes I stroll in her closet just to admire her endearment for such articles.

I approached the scarf, now I was closer to this unfamiliar fabric. I sniffed it, and instantly what struck me was this obscure lilac, flowery scent. It was some perfume for sure. I picked up the scarf and examined it closer.

Now that I think about it, we did buy a daisy scarf for her once. Katherine's scarf was the same design however it striked a rather bolder white color.

Then I looked around at the foolishly dancing middle aged people and cringed at their sight. I focused back on the daisy scarf.

clothing can stain, color can fade.