Product Induced Date at KLCC???

I lie down in my Spartan room staring at the fan for so long that its motion like my mind is no longer one of rotation; it’s oscillatory, thoughts pendulously swaying back and forth. Maybe it’s the remnants of Product in my system, that’s creating all the heightened emotion-maybe this is what it’s like after living a dream, wave upon wave of tiredness undulating me ceaselessly. Not very different from the after sex feeling.
The room fades around me, like it did at Zouk while I kissed her; the dank second hand smoke, multitudes of horny young people, squeezing into our sides disappeared, and only that one moment was left, with its peculiar nausea inducing dizzy effect. I try to relive the earlier part of today. I felt like a tourist in KLCC. Everything seemed totally new to me, the shops the restaurants, the stares…so new! I take the escalator up to Madam Kwan’s- it looks nice; few customers waiting outside, smattering of tourists, few families ,no couples, no visible tables for two. Perfect. Viewing the world under the influence of Product is an almost astral experience. The feeling of dissociation with the material, and heightened sense of deductive reasoning gives the induced the illusion of omnipotence.
She’s here, outside Chinoz, wearing the same outfit she wore That Night, light blue hip huggers, white sleeveless top stained with psychedelic flowers, pink bra. The “coincidental” significance is not lost to me; after all I’m wearing the same Giordano long sleeved tee and super faded Levis, from That Night. Kiss. Hug. “We’re eating waaay up on the top, hahaha”. A puzzled glance. I grin foolishly and lead her up. Lunch is over in an hour, and with my wallet lighter than my head and bladder, we go head for coffee.
We’re talking, feeling, soul searching, screaming. My eyes have never left hers, except when she brings up a taboo topic, like ex-boyfriends. Breaking eye-contact with her and staring at a point just above her ear, freaks her out, she loses her train of thought, and glances over her shoulder; at which point I interject. No more ex-bf stories. For now.
I read her lines, I hit on the truth. It sickens me whenever it works. For Christ sakes, it’s supposed to be a gimmick! It’s not meant to really reach into the depths of her soul and find something that only she knows. We’re equally freaked out, and under the pretext of taking a piss, we leave for the bathrooms. We both know that we’re not pissing. We’re in the cubicles leaning against the flimsy wall, feeling weak in the knees, and cupping our faces in our hands. We wash our hands; I was my face-she didn’t wear water-proof foundation today, so after looking deep into her eyes in the mirror, and adjusting her blouse, she’s out before me. I give my locks a shake, curse the lack of tissue paper, and walk out. Next it another café, but this times its outside, its way too freaky inside. The air feels fresh in KLCC Park, she has water, and I have jasmine tea. Our hearts are racing, and we’re both high now, and we need to piss again. “I want to slap you, scream at you, and kiss you, all at the same time!!How do you feel?”. “ I feel like this is one of those moments people only dream about, and boy bands sing about. I also feel like doing you right now.”
We’re outside KLCC. She has to go pack. She leaves tomorrow, forever. We hug, we kiss, and we get stares from polite and not-so polite Malaysians. The Security guard strolls towards us with intentions, but changes his mind, goes back to his colleagues and says something, which makes them all laugh. We hug and hold hands for fifteen minutes between the two towers. She plants a wet kiss on my cheek, I let go of her hand first, and we walk away. I don’t look back, maybe she did. It would be nice if she did. Classic, maybe? I take the longest route back to my Spartan room, lie on my sheet less bed, and watch the fan rotate.