Colors Crash, Collide in Bloodshot Eyes

I wrote this 300 word story for a class and have often thought about expanding it…

---

Flinging the door open, he shivered as the cold air slammed into his naked body.

“Coming in?” he asked, taking a long swig from a bottle of Chardonnay and disappearing into the kitchen.

I didn’t know if I should be more alarmed by the complete nudity, or that he was drinking warm white wine at 9:30 am.

“Sure,” I reluctantly replied. “We still going to breakfast?”

I knew the answer before the words left my lips.

Stepping inside I closed the door as the stench of kitchen trash made my eyes tear.

The sink was filled with grey water and a stack of dishes that was days old.

“Luke,” I began, taking in the state of his apartment.

“Don’t,” he replied, plopping down on his couch and dropping his head into his hands.

I walked toward him and sat, the pungent body odor hitting me as I approached.

My instinct was to place a hand on his back or pull him into an embrace, but the sweaty nudity left me confused and unsure.

There was so much to say, yet I couldn’t glue two words together so we sat in silence.

“I can’t live like this anymore, but there are only two ways out.”

It was true, yet excruciating to hear his cracked lips whisper the words.

“Maybe we just focus on the one?” I suggested hopefully.

I heard him sniffle and watched a tear hit the wood floor beneath his closed eyes.

“Let’s put on some clothes and we can discuss it over lemon pancakes and coffee,” I suggested in an effort to entice him off the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” I smiled, “Can you be sorry in pants though?”

He looked up and chuckled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.