GCAVixens: Ex-Files: The Waiting Game

Brazzers

Blake Blossom, James Angel Pic(s)

The silence in the sterile waiting room was a physical presence, thick and heavy between us. Blake Blossom sat with a practiced stillness, her gaze fixed on a faded print of a generic beach scene, refusing to let it waver toward me. I, James Angel, could feel the weight of every unsaid word, every memory we had meticulously packed away, now threatening to spill from the sealed boxes of our past. The faint, clinical scent of antiseptic did little to mask the familiar, haunting trace of her perfume, a scent that once felt like home. Each tick of the stark white clock on the wall measured out another second of this excruciating purgatory we found ourselves in, two ex-lovers trapped in a shared, anxious vigil. I stole a glance at her profile, noticing the subtle tension in her jaw, a tell I remembered from a thousand arguments and quiet worries. We were a gallery of forgotten intimacy, surrounded by strangers yet completely isolated in the history we shared. What were we even waiting for—news about a mutual friend, a final signature on some legal document, or perhaps just a sign that this wasn’t as painfully awkward as it felt? The air seemed to crackle with the ghosts of our laughter and the echoes of our last, devastating fight. Ultimately, we were both just playing our parts in this silent, unscripted performance called “The Waiting Game,” two solitary islands in a sea of plastic chairs and regret.