I’ve been making plans, for the future
Become an unconscious man, all for the good
He took the earbuds out as he opened the apartment curtains to view the city’s horizon: vast arrays of cement and steel, buildings rising high in every direction. Storm clouds loomed on the edge of the city, while overheard grey clouds sprinkled for minutes then went silent. He wondered if the protesters would be phased, and quickly dismissed the notion.
His wife had just started her period, and as was typical for her (and all women) she was moody. Her normally pleasant demeanor was replaced by an unpredictability not unlike the clouds outside their high rise. He asked her something inconsequential, and she flew off the handle.
“You’re completely over-reacting,” he said to her. He said it firmly, with steady eyes locked on her. It wasn’t an appeal. It was a statement of fact, and a command. There was no need to elaborate, that was all it took. She quickly bowed her head and became silent, recognizing her fault. Later she would supplicate to him, acknowledging what he already knew: she needed to be set straight, especially in moments like that. In fact she craved it, needed it, depended on it. Women don’t communicate this with words, but subtly, with body language, and gestures.
One of the biggest transitions that had occurred over the last year was his taking over the mantle of leadership. In truth he was still getting the hang of it, and learning as he went through trial and error. What he’d learned was that you just have to make a decision and go with it. The outcome isn’t as generally so important. What counts is making the decision and not floundering. He didn’t always have all the information he would like to have, so he’d just have to wing it.
As they were getting dressed to go out for food she asked him where they would eat. He paused a moment and said, “That place with the goose, what’s it called?” as he hadn’t learned the names of restaurants yet.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“I don’t think those shoes go well with that outfit.” he said kindly, but truthfully.
“Sure, let me get a different pair.”
If women knew how much better their legs and asses looked to the male viewing apparatus with heels versus flats (or sneakers/flip flops), they would never hesitate to wear them.
Turning to face the window, he caught a reflection of his wife in the window as clouds momentarily parted to let sun streak across the buildings facing him. Her petite frame, dark hair spilling across her shoulders, completely focused on finding the right shoes to wear to look pleasing to him. He gave thought to what they would do that day.
His thoughts drifted to his last days before leaving the U.S. An outdoor party, arriving late, everyone drunk and high, sitting in a circle. He was the outsider, his dress was different and more formal, he didn’t drink or smoke anything. They sat sullen, imbibed and suspicious of him while “having a good time”. He talked to his friend for a bit, who was already shitfaced. How little he felt in common with these people, how uninterested he was in getting wasted to escape his life. He’d been there and now he was embracing his life in a way he never had.
“How about these?” she asked, batting her eyelashes, smiling.
“Great, looks good.” She smiled and took them off to go into the bathroom to finish her makeup. She’d been trying different types of eyelashes and wanted to get them just right.
He put the earbuds back in as sun spilled over the horizon.
So nice to be in magic America La la la la la He likes to live in magic America With all the magic people