Bad Habit
Spontaneity. That’s what he was good for. He would show up one day out of the blue with flowers and hours to spend talking. People didn’t mind if he was late or absent because he could always get away with sweet-talking his way into their good graces.
Well, everyone but her. She was not ready to forgive him so easily. He had liked her volcanic temper and acidic spirit. He had liked her tentativeness when she first saw his motorcycle. Part of him had liked the fact that she didn’t melt with flowers or chocolate. He liked her because she wasn’t like everyone else.
But he had forgotten that for a moment and slipped back into his bad habit of missing important events and apologizing largely later. He didn’t understand what was so important about birthdays anyway. So what if that was when he was meeting her parents. They’d still be around tomorrow and he’d meet them then. But she didn’t feel the same way and her temper could smother.
He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t do it again and she couldn’t promise to remain faithful. She was subtle like that when she was angry. He liked that about her. But it didn’t matter much anymore.
