|Artwork by Colleen Ross|
By Kimberly MackThe words “I hate you,” slipped so easily off her tongue. She laughed when she said them.
It made me wonder. Perhaps she did just a little. I watched her and began to notice things. There was a new hesitation in her touch, a passion missing in her kiss. Her beautiful sea-blue eyes would never quite meet mine.
Suddenly there were more lunches with “the girls,” visits to the museums and shopping trips. But, she never bought anything; never brought home any “souvenirs.” Then the funny phone calls started. The person on the other end always hung up.
She said she was running off to meet the girls for their weekly bowling night. With a light kiss and a wave of her small hand she was off. I stood looking down at the driveway as she pulled her light blue Plymouth out of the garage. She hadn’t taken her bowling ball. It was still in the hall closet.
I tailed her down Highland three cars back to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. I had a sick feeling in my gut.
I was losing my girl. - Mick