•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
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How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
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He moved the stylus needle and the music started playing.
The miniature phonograph mounted on top of the mahogany cabinet played a Paul Anka classic and shattered the nightly silence that had befell on the 62nd floor. It was a generous gift of. . . . he didn't remember who or when.
The mantle clock on the console table showed that it was currently eight o'clock at night.
The President threw his head back as he relaxed on the couch in his office, after changing the frequency a few times to adjust to the new genre.
🎶Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh-so-tight Show me that you love me too.🎶
The harmonic melody was soft and lighthearted, but upbeat. His slender fingers gently grazed the armrest, tapping to the tempo of the lyrics.
His closed eyes felt slight warm on his eyeballs. The consciousness of his was still wide awake however longer he kept them shut. Sleep was miles away from him even today.
He momentarily opened his eyes and focused them on the glass ball that refracted the moonlight so brightly, before moving them calmly on the window.
Soft breeze flowed in and ruffled his luscious black tresses. He calmly exhaled his warm breath that tickled his upper lip. Keeping his eyes fixed on the night sky, he saw the moon still clouded behind the dark clouds. The stars sparsely illuminated the land.
The weather became a bit colder as the night grew longer. The soft breeze that ruffled his hair now swayed on the curtains before spinning out of the windows.
The waltz ended when his hands moved towards a hip flask colored in the shade of platinum.
He reached out and pulled open the lid gently, and brought the rim to his lips.
The bitter taste of the rum poured down his throat, leaving a burning aftertaste on his tongue.
The mid- summer night was monotonous and repetitious.
The President kept drinking whilst listening to the short string of a hip - classic that followed. By the time the second song started, he picked up Alexandra's glasses which he had carelessly dumped in the drawers this evening, and put them on his face.
The world on the other side of the lens appeared quite strained and made his head dizzy. Her vision seemed to be pretty bad.
Is that why she kept frowning all the time recently?
At first he assumed that the reason might be her compulsion to work and be near him for most of the day. Alexandra had been spending too much time by his side for her own liking.
He knew how much she was cautious around him. Her face appeared as if he would eat her up if she did not keep her guard up.
But nowadays, she was herself volunteering to do so. Finding active excuses even to stay at least in his vision.
