Singularity

For each day in March 2016, I’ll be writing these 150 word essays based on a sentence provided by a Facebook or Google+ follower of my little essay-lettes.
Today’s is from Stuart Gaffney in San Francisco who writes,: “ It seems to be my fate to destroy any chemistry within a month of being intimate.”
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He wore five o’clock shadow and a blue pin stripe shirt that must have been magnificently ironed at 8am. Half of scotch and soda sloshing around a happy hour cocktail glass. A shiny undone molasses black bow tie dangling from his collar. The more you study his face, the more you realize how exhausted he was. He’d whispered to himself hopefully on the way to the bar, but within a few minutes standing against the wall, the unhappiness returned. The burden hung upon him like heavy chain. Surrendering, he heads for the door. He brushes up against you on his way through the maze, setting his empty glass on the bar next to you. You look up with that “gosh aren’t you cute” look. He sighs softly, “but… not for me” and leaves you thinking by yourself at the bar. He was a singularity. Anyone falling into his gravity, fated to destroy any chemistry within a month of being intimate.