When Julia was alone, she sometimes thought about not getting dressed. Clothes could actually get boring. But then after walking around the house by herself, with nothing else she really wanted to do, the urge got the better of her, and usually she wound up standing in front of the closet debating.
Sometimes she wished that someone was around to pick out the clothes for her. There were either too many choices or not enough, depending on her mood. She wanted to go shopping. She wanted new things and to look good in front of someone. Anyone. If there was somebody to just... force her to get dressed and push her out the door, she might not feel so restless, so pathetic in her detached state of being. But then that was the main problem. There was no one else.
At times, not even him.
When Jason's wife was around, he kept Julia out of sight. He preferred the two of them have nothing to do with each other, but the denial hurt in ways he didn’t comprehend. He and Julia were intimately close, and their relationship was certainly unique. Their occasional trysts felt good, for awhile, but lately the fool was separating himself again. He'd apparently embarked on another one of his “dissection of the soul” tirades, which would inevitably lead him to the same old tired conclusion: he couldn’t stand to give her up.
Jason could control his needs, when he wanted to. But there were too many other possibilities to explore, and he would never, ever be satisfied. Julia believed this to be true. And while her contentment awaited deliverance by his hands, she also believed it would never come.
So she waited, impatient yet dutiful, for the selfish creep to come to his senses.
End, pt. III