A Sequence of Equation.

Oh dear, is it really all true?
Did they offend us and they want it to sound new? - The Strokes

He walks to me as a stranger does to a wailing child. Cautious and guarded, his every step is carefully drawn out and calculated, weary and unattached. He's become quite the deceiving mathematician. I chuckle humourlessly to myself at the paradox.

“Madeline,” he calls me and I stand there perplexed. When did I become 'Madeline'? He's close now, his body radiating a heat that I can only perceive as a glacial cold.

Fine. Two can play at this jest.

“Benjamin,” I counter, and I see him visibly stiffen at the word. Ah. So he does seem to have retained his heart.

“How is the family?” He swiftly recovers with whatever remaining dignity left in his masked countenance.

“Good. Yours?” I ask in a detached air, while my insides scream in protest. If he could deceive, I could do one better.

“Good.” He equals my cold tone. I simply stare at him, looking onto the man that boy became. That boy who's eyes once quivered with spirit and the anticipation of adventure behind every rickety treehouse door, are now replaced with the aging despondence of a man's nonchalant stare. The arms that used to twist and curve to lift me up and twirl me about so I could fly with the blue jays in my backyard now reside limp on either side of his ram-rod straight frame. The fingers lie dead, hanging from palms soft, no longer the course they used to be from climbing countless trees. His flushed face is a respective meter away from mine, yet I can't bear to look him in the eye any longer. I feel a tear forming in the glands and I know it is time to leave.

I turn on my heel and start to walk away to a place that isn't so constricting. To a place where truth isn't so well hidden behind indifference. To anywhere away from this room.

Just before I could step a foot outside to the ever mounting snow now covering whatever remaining patch of grass lay exposed in defiance, I feel a slight pressure on my right hand.

“Ben I don-” I start as I turn around but he doesn't allow me to finish as he covers my mouth with his. His lips are urgent against mine, as if fighting against immeasurable time, and I let go. I don't have the strength to uphold silent resolves anymore as passion, missing from so long ago, ignites this all-consuming kiss. As I feel my knees giving way, I feel his strong arms around me and I let him hold me up as his lips continue to crash with mine.

And then, just as abruptly as he appeared, he left, leaving me gasping against the unforgivingly hard brick wall. My heart feels like it might hammer through my chest in attempt to leave a conspicuous hole for all to see. A hole big enough to show just how stupidly naïve I'd been. I feel drained as I collapse on the wooden floor and touch my lips absentmindedly as acquaintances crowd around in fraudulent concern.