Saccharin

He took a seat opposite her, sliding his chair in with his trademark smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. She stared down at her coffee mug, avoiding his sincere brown eyes. He motioned to a waiter and asked for the usual; strong black with no sugar. The waiter scurried off to attend to the customer’s needs. Leaning in, he rested his clasped hands on the table and waited for her to strike up a conversation. She finally managed to muster the courage and looked up.

“So… how are things?” she inquired, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the mug with her forefinger.

“Like always,” He thanked the same waiter who gently placed the saucer and mug onto the table. “She moved out this morning.”

“Ah,” the woman murmured, taking a sip.

He stared intently at her for a while, expecting a more positive response.

“Elsa… you do realise what this means.”

She simply shook her head. “No, James. Do you know what our relationship is like? At first, it’s hundreds of times sweeter than freaking sugar, and… and then it just leaves this bitter aftertaste like… well… saccharin. And you do know that it’s been tested on rats and they get bladder cancer from it, but it’s like low-calorie sugar, just much sweeter and with the aftertaste that doesn’t really bother me but–”

James wasn’t moved by Elsa’s sudden outburst and rant, but more rather slammed a twenty dollar bill onto the table, grabbed her wrist and took off without even drinking. Whistling to a taxi, its tyres screeched to a stop and they both hopped on before getting back off in front of his apartment fifteen minutes later. The raced each other upstairs, James fumbling with his keys, finally unlocking his door, kissing violently, undressing one another and stumbling into the bedroom. He was desperate. She was insecure.

 

It was well past lunchtime. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky outside was becoming its familiar pinkish orange around the time. None of them were bothered making dinner either. Elsa was grasping the mug in one hand, a spoon in the other, slowly stirring the instant coffee around in the cup. He snaked his arms around her waist, nipping affectionately on her ear, apparently shirtless. She tore the top off the pink Sweet’N Low packet and poured the contents into the coffee.

“Don’t you mind cancer?” he joked softly into her ear.

“I’ll take the risk.” She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

 

The bitter aftertaste still hadn’t come.

Yet.

Author's Note

I love constructive criticism. I abhor one-liners.

Reviews

[papaed]

Aw... youthful boredom, angst, passion, and identity confusion tied together with a wonderful metaphor for our world today. And even a visual symbol that may be saccharin! It is boiled down and quick, truthful, and to the point without a lot of descriptive sugar adjectives. Has a lead-in making one want more, and a conclusion with double impact and subtle meaning also making one want more.
Well done. I'll watch for more of your writing.
papaed

[mick weller]

usual; strong (: or - ?)
The raced (they?)

'James wasn't moved by Elsa's sudden outburst and rant, but more rather slammed a twenty dollar bill onto the table' (awkward?)
James wasn't moved by Elsa's sudden outburst and rant. He slammed a twenty dollar bill onto the table...
'outburst and rant,' - was this a rant though? maybe it is today in 'young speak'?
...around the time (?)
will we get to here about the bitter after taste?
cheers - some interesting attention to detail here

[Rosary]

I like it it all connects to one thing which is kinda cool but it lacks something you need to grab the readers attention more considering this is a short story i believe, it doesnt blow you away it seems more like the description on the back of a movie just my opinion