My pen hits the paper, fast and furious. She's taken the car, taken her money, and at least some of her clothing. Its just a weekend at her mothers, I remind myself. Nothing bad, nothing permanent. But then...why is my pen so frantic?

From the moment he saw her, it was love, nay, lust.

Thats almost as bad as some of the endings.

Their eyes locked, and the room stopped moving. Then she fucking left for her mothers. And took everything. And might not be back, and you know it.

Stop venting, start writing. Concentrate! She'll be back, when she sees that you've  found that old spark again.

Her feet light upon the floor, she danced, gaily and oblivious of anyone and everyone, self possessed and perfect.

No one's perfect. Not even a muse that you trusted with your soul.

Their mediocrity had led them to this slum. To this party. To the high point of mediocrity. And here, amongst the mediocrity, was more mediocrity.

STOP. You have to concentrate. Deadlines, Deadlines, Deadlines. Screw her. If she wants to be such a bitch, let her. Don't take it out on the poor, innocent lives that you've been harvesting.

The music beat through her body like a serpent charmer's flute, forcing her to dance, to writhe in ecstatic agony at the beauty of the bass, the wonder of the beat. She'd never felt like this, never been to a place like this, and had never, ever, let herself be carried away so thoroughly. But this time...this was different. She was a new woman, reborn in her own strength, and ready to take the night into her own hands, and craft what she could with it.

Crap, but better. Leave it, and keep the flow moving. Can't think of her all the time, can I?

He stood across the room, watching the twirling beauty with eyes unmoved by its gay motions. He only saw the perfection of her body and the thrill of the chase. Life was good. Cutting through the music, cutting through the tempo, he walked, straight and true, across the floor, stopping in front of her. A small smile is all it took for her to notice him, and turning to walk away was all it took for her to follow. A frown creased his forehead. Too easy. And he knew it...was almost ashamed of it, really.

Was this how we were? Was this how me and her met? I wish I could remember...but real life...its so trivial, when put next to the fantasies of the pen. There was no party, no other people..but was there passion? Or simple conquest, and hate? I wish I knew...

Together, by the tables, they spoke not a word. She was curious, intrigued, really, by his stoic gaze and slow motions. No one had ever treated her with such disdain, such loving contempt...and she was horrified to find that she was enjoying it.

Did she really enjoy it? Or did she settle for the first man that took her? I wish I knew...

He stood, looking her over, contemplating his mistakes. The fire of the chase had gone from him, almost as quickly as it had come. Such obedience, so quickly...it was unheard of. Should he take her to bed, and chance her being, of all the horrible things...a virgin? Or should he wait, trade her off to another, and steal her back? He didn't know.

I didn't know. I still don't. Why was it so easy, bringing her to me, marrying her, living with her. Why was it so easy until now? Did she really love me, or just the money my other books brought in...I wish I knew.

"I wish I knew..." she started, and stopped herself. She didn't know what she wished she knew, didn't know what this was that mocked her, that made her ache. And perhaps...she didn't want to know, didn't want to feel.

But then again...I didn't want to know, nor feel, either.