drabbles

on losing

how does it taste? he asks, sharp eyes betraying his interest in my reaction even as his body language projected strong disinterest.

i pause, slowly considering the taste in my mouth.

it's tasteless, i answer with a twist of my mouth. what i said was partly true, as the strange dish before me did taste strangely of nothing. though, if i concentrated, the mouthful of food seemed to almost melt into a strange bittersweet taste.

he mock-pouts from across the table at my response. carelessly, he remarks, then i suppose you haven't accepted it yet.

or maybe i never expected any different in the first place, i countered, pushing away the bowl of food that he'd made me.

life watches me with sorrowful eyes. don't you think that's a little sad? he says quietly.

i shrug. it is what it is, after all. it just is. you can never be disappointed. you can never be accused of being too arrogant or careless.

but you can't be called ambitious or confident, either. life leans back, staring at me sadly. don't—didn't you believe in you, or them?

i did. but things aren't always fair. things don't always go the way we want. sometimes we let ourselves hope, or believe, and that means we either get half the surprise and joy or double the crushing disappointment. i explain, spreading my hands as if to demonstrate.

between that and double the surprise and joy as compared to half the disappointment, isn't it clear what i'll pick?

life remains silent throughout it all. after a minute of silence, he shakes his head defeatedly. finish your food, he mutters, and pushes the bowl towards me before standing up and leaving.

(bonus:

i...didn't do it consciously, this time. the words fall out of my mouth almost unbiddenly, but life halts anyway. i thought—or at least i think i thought—that we could win. that i would look up and see us on that screen. i stopped when i got to know how many points we lost, but some small part of me still kept on hoping.

life didn't reply, so i continued. most of the time, i don't even realise it. i don't know why i do this, either. but i promise you, i don't choose to do it. if i could, i wouldn't. you know that.

he hesitated for a moment, as if considering. then, he turned around, walking over to his side of the table, and sat back down.)