The Chemistry of a Vice

I waited a bit to catch my breath before rolling over. The naked, sweaty body of the stranger wriggled away from under me. What did she feel? I don’t care. I could hardly look at her face anyway. I’ve committed adultery again.

The strange ceilings bring back memories. I’ve been here before. I know the familiar colors of shame. Inside my head thoughts are racing, round and around one forsaken track, worn to the peat by the furrowed ridges of this recurrent affliction.

I should have avoided this. I should have come straight home. I shouldn’t have made that call. I shouldn’t have waited if it had merely been a friendly visit. I shouldn’t have asked for that last drink. I shouldn’t have taken my wedding ring off.

I shouldn’t have….

Yet, I know. It was the plan from the very beginning. It’s the truth I can’t admit. I played it all out a long time before now. This is no coincidence.

I longed to wash her off me; slap her hard till my palms hurt; punish her for leading me down the straits of sin and welcoming me into the pain of my self-crimination. Perhaps, I’ll feel better thereafter. Maybe this warmth rising in my throat will recede like the wanton sea that longs to be with the land, but on reaching its shores find it endless. And downtrodden, falls back; only to return for fear of letting hope die.