![]() How to Break Up With A GirlA Story by Mifa![]() A satire![]() First, act like you don’t know what she’s talking about. Look surprised; amused even. Let go of a little smirk; make it perfunctory. Let her see the confusion in your eyes as you move away from her and go sit by your lonesome on the edge of the bed.
A haunting silence will pass "make it seem longer by turning to look intently at her. Let her see the somber dejection in your eyes. Let her feel guilty; almost repentant. But don’t allow the moment stretch for too long, and thus risk undoing the truism of your conceited acquiescence. Keep your eyes on her as she walks towards you and sits by your side. Seem reluctant as she tries to take your hand in hers. Shake your head with a despondent frown on your face. She would try to explain further; don’t listen, but pretend to.
Allow your mind wonder; drown your pseudo-worrisome thoughts in the emptiness of the room. Admire every little detail about it. Stare at the walls with pretentious disdain. Notice the little crack on it, especially the plastered fault-lines by the shelf where you keep your favorite books of literature. Allow your eyes fall on some of them; scheming through only a few names from their spine, as their different colors form some sought of kaleidoscopic keys of a piano hung right-side up.
Let your eyes move from one book’s spine to the next: from Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart to David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, all the way down the hardcover line to one of your more recent acquisition "the only non fictional prose on that shelf" Between the World and Me by Ta Nehisi Coates. Smile to yourself inconspicuously, as you recall a line from it that said, “To do evil, a human being must first of all believe that what he’s doing is good…” Don’t let her see it "not the book; the smile.
For a minute reflect on that line from the book. Question your motives, even though you understand hers. Think back to when things where great between you two. Think back to the first time you saw her a mile away, jogging towards you. Remember she wore a sports bra with running tights and a pair of white air Jordan sneakers. She looked amazing; ravishing even. Her fitness attire accentuating her drop-dead gorgeous feminine curves and physique, causing a lustful smile to fall on your face, as you watched the distant shrink between you two. But then that awful thing happened.
Smile quietly to yourself as you remember that awful thing. Staring at her for too long, you inadvertently stepped into a pile of dog poop. Smile also when you recall her surprising reaction that started with her stopping immediately in her tracks and walking towards you in cachinnating mockery. Then remember how amazed and intrigued you were when she joked about never thinking her ‘rack’ had such powers to have made someone "you" walk straight into human poop. Smile, even more, when you remember how nauseous you felt realizing it wasn’t dog poop you stepped into, but then think of how all that was lost and meaningless when you looked up at her face and she gave you the most mesmerizing smile you had ever seen.
Recall that line from the book once more “to do evil a human being must first of all believe that what he’s doing is good…” and question your motive. Question your motive; cross-examine your intent. Call a spade its name. You are breaking up with her, even though she was the one saying it. “I don’t think this is working” she says. The words coming out of her mouth make your ear drums tingle with excitement, but you bite your teeth to hold back your atrocious glee, as you close your eyes to swallow the little bit of guilt that crawls up your thoughts. The words were hers; they came from her mouth no doubt. But deep down, you know the truth. They very well could’ve been yours. © 2016 MifaAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
196 Views
2 Reviews Added on July 31, 2016 Last Updated on July 31, 2016 Tags: pretense, love, heartbreak, satire Author![]() MifaLagos, South West, NigeriaAboutEver since discovering the incomprehensible powers of writing, I have become a slave to its every command. It’s cliché to say I love writing on a platform created for writers but F**k it,.. more..Writing
|