where she had gone to? Maybe home? Or
maybe crying in the car? Or maybe to another
adventure with the third? It didn't matter any
more because they were all the same. Different
faces, different names, but nonetheless, all the
same. We were the same. We had both walked
in the same high heels through the same maze
and now it was their turn. The slaves. Them,
over there, crouched around a heavily breathing
tub of lard who had bought the right to his
attention the way a cheap whore is bought. He
didn't have anything of value to offer, so he
bought it. He bought their high heels so that
they too could walk through the maze to
exhaustion and come to not care about the first
or the last or anyone.
I noticed her giggle playfully as she slowly
traced her long fingernails across his thick thigh.
She was the blonde seated to his right. He was
a mess. A disgusting mess. She continued to
giggle as she neared her fingertips closer to his
prominent crotch as he discreetly pushed her
hand away. His puffy cheeks covered in a light
coating of sweat as his breathing was even
more uncomfortable than before. Or was it
yesterday? Was he the first for her? Probably
and only so because of his success. She was
desperate for attention, for experience, for
adventure, for heartache so that she too could
one day experience tiredness and exhaustion in
the maze and come to not care about the first
or the second or anyone. I used to be her. We
were the same. We understood each other. She
giggled as he pushed her hand completely away.
He was a mess. A disgusting mess.
She had left. I guess I didn't notice her leave
because I had been too caught up in my own
observation. Where she had sat so patiently
previously, there was now a vacant seat. She
had abandoned her rightful throne for freedom.
I missed her calculating green eyes and her
beautiful main of red delight because maybe
she was the only one who truly understood me
on my level among this senseless, frivolous
soiree? I was the nemesis, the rival, the invader,
but we were exactly the same in the first and
the second or the last. In the maze, nothing is
new under the sun.
I took my position on her throne and wondered
She glanced over at me, her raven black hair
shining from the reflection of the halogen light
above as her seductive blue eyes traced my
silhouette. She was seated to his left. I bet she
was wondering who I was and why I was
watching them? She was confused. I used to be
her too. Her gaze reverted back to him. He was
a mess. A disgusting mess. I was of no
significance because I was the third, or at least I
think I was, but I could be well wrong? She was
probably the fourth or maybe the fifth? None of
us were the last. She looked again in my
direction, noticing me watching her with intent
curiosity and she knew who I was. I was her a
very long time ago and some day in the future,
she would come to be me. We understood each
other. We were the same. In the maze, nothing
is new under the sun.
He got up to leave as she playfully tugged at his
pants, her blonde hair frantically swaying from
side to side. "No, Hope, let go. I have business
to attend to!" he told her as he fought to
release himself from her immature grasp.
"Hope, be a good girl and let go!" he ordered,
sternly laughing as she was beginning to annoy
him with her practiced playfulness. We all knew
that charming role and had played it over and
over, like a boring old movie. We were all the
same. We are all the same. In the maze,
nothing is new under the sun.