Enter Mme, In A Reverie

Mme (don't confuse her with me whose name is pronounced precisely the way it's spelt - Mimi), Colty's sensibly eccentric or eccentrically sensible girlfriend, wrote this when she was dating Colty (though Colty would have you believe it was he who was dating her...hahaha) and she reached the fatal conclusion that her no-nonsense heart had flipped (three somersaults it did inside her has-experienced-it-all rib cage) for him when she was listening to his usual inanities and profanities.
Colty, at that precise point in history, was not sure whether all the mails Mme wrote should be saved in the inbox under "Friends", "Spl friends", "Friends who show the potential to become girlfriends" , "She thinks am just a friend but I think otherwise", "I think she's just a friend but she thinks otherwise" or simply under the vacant "Girlfriend" slot. Historians have confirmed one truth, which is indeed beautiful (and hence it must be the truth, after all "Truth is beauty, beauty is truth" - Keats, yeah?) and that is when Mme "confessed" to the supremely useless Colty, it was 2:57 pm on a windy Wednesday at Mainland China: "I was happy, till I met you...Now, am troubled..only because of you" to which an annoyed Colty had said:" Yeah? Always my fault!" With that, he allows Mme to foot their fat bill for the none-too-slim lunch both had merrily polished off a few minutes back.
Mme, unable to express in speech what her depraved mind craved for, sat down by the river Ganges and wept like those sad creatures in Eliot's The Wasteland, whom he stole from the Bible, who wept by the waters of Leman, I think. Then her nebulous emotions fell out in concrete, little, crisp sentences which Colty had the pleasure of reading. In every word of hers was reflected his own word...(You, my dear reader, do take this tissue and wipe the snot) and her letter only corroborated his own feelings...Here's Mme at her best behaviour, waxing eloquent for that bugger called Colty...(Now, buy me a new tissue, will ya?!)

As I pay the bills and clear your debts, I wonder... How long will it be before you say you will remain indebted to me for playing along with you in this game? These warm coffee vapours that now glide their way up and diffuse into this wet air - why don't they enchant you for once as you ask me what else I want? Why don't they charm you into forgetting all that you have been taught? This is a test too - and yet you lose more if you win at your own game! Why didn't you set aside your conventions too along with your prosaic bag which you left by your feet on the floor? For once, why dont you shred apart the paper-thin talks you carry on about your office and the people here, and reveal some tender, elemental truths about yourself...and some about me?

And how long must I wear this indulgent foolish smile, as you tell me about your life and I think why you are taking so much time? This mask of casualness you wear - shall I unmask you now and touch the careless desolation you hide? And this assortment of mundane words, that accompany this assortment of salads- shall I swallow them at once or shall I wait for the magical ones I want to hear and chew over and over again when you are no more here with me? Now and then, you graze my ear with some harsh consonants with harsher meanings and scatter them along my path. I trip. I stumble. And sometimes, I fall. Shall I wait for the mellifluous, soft words to gatecrash or are these words still awaiting a formal invite from me? Why don't you let me be the woman that I am, instead of wanting me to usurp your rightful role?

How many sly glances must I cast your way to catch one stealthy glance from you? And when your eyes meet mine, shall I wither you with a stern look or shall I look coyly the other way? How long must I wait before you discard this flimsy raiment of sophistication that you wear, which I must admit, looks good on you? And this ephemeral fragrance that gently traverses across this afternoon breeze - is that some cologne or some aftershave that you use? Or is that wafting from another soul like you, who sits a few steps away from us, watching you and me who entertain him as these slow hours slowly kill him too?How long will you remain entangled in this mesh of artifice and pretend that I don't mean a thing to you?
Or shall I play the knight-errant...and rescue myself from your tangled thoughts to which I have willingly surrendered?

Colty says it's these lines of Mme's that have done him in..once and for all...That lil twerp!