April 1

You know that feeling of being trapped, as if you were in a room with no windows, hoping to avoid certain people while looking for a way to escape? I was having one of those days on a Monday when I ran into not one, but wait... two exes in one day.

Just my luck. It was also April Fool's Day.

It was like being in the Bruce Lee movie, Enter the Dragon, where the hero tries to escape from a room full of mirrors, while being hunted by the claw-handed super villain. These two end up in an awkward confrontation. Amp up the levels of awkwardness by a thousand volts when the cheesy 1970s porn music starts playing in the background, and there you have it: the feeling of bumbling, awkward claustrophobia.

The morning bus ride to work started off in a rather non-eventful way. I was reading a trashy romance novel at the back of a tired, smelly bus that motored its way into the heart of the city, when I felt a large presence overshadow my sunshine.

I was about to fire out a groan of exasperation in response to the invasion of my personal privacy, when I looked up to see a pair of familiar dark eyes.

"Kingsey?" The deep, brown eyes questioned me.

I had not been called that name since... oh no. Brock Miller.

Shit. FML. Is this some kind of joke?

A hurricane of memories invaded my already occupied mind.

It's flashback time, so let's remove the color in this memory. Make it black and white, like an Ed Wood-inspired schlock horror film.

Now, let's unlock and open that hidden door in the back of my mind to unleash a sad and sorry memory.

In the second year of my undergraduate degree, I struck a conversation with a tall, solid fellow who sat next to me during one of the lectures. Brock Miller was a popular guy who played for the university's Rugby football team. He wore polo shirts and left the collar up, which was the stereotypical preppie-jock fashion exhibited in films like Revenge of the Nerds.

Other students cheered him on as he made smart comments during the lectures, and he reveled in the cheers in a somewhat similar fashion to how I imagined a maniacal Nero absorbing an exuberant amount of attention from the sycophantic crowds during the chariot races he led.

At the time, I was blinded by Brock's popularity and power. He had power over the masses, with his sly charm, Jerry Maguire smile, and confident demeanor. He threw me the bait, and I took the hook too. Oh, did you know that Hitler was also a charismatic leader? Just food for thought.

Throughout the remainder of my university days, Brock and I were a couple. He was the king of the football parties, where he out-drank his mates, volunteered for the wildest dares, and treated people according to their so-called social 'pecking order'. I vehemently abhorred the superficiality of it all.

However, one-on-one, he was a pretty decent guy. In fact, he was a softie with a sensitive nature and a sweet heart. Alas, he and I drifted apart. I clamped down on my studies, while he carried on with being Mr. Popular.

I never forgot the day Maddy revealed to me a secret she was not meant to find out... Brock Miller was cheating on me with a girl I knew in my Law and Society class.

This was how I broke up with Brock:

Day one: I hurled one of my stilettos at the target. The heel boomeranged into his stomach and caused him howl-cry in pain.

Day two: I ate an entire pizza in tears, while watching a pathetic Hallmark movie and reruns of Friends with Maddy.

Day three: I ate an entire tub of Ben and Jerry's cheesecake ice-cream, while crying on the phone to Maddy.

Day four: I went to the gym. I noticed a cutie checking me out while I worked out on the rowing machine. I thought it was just my imagination, so I turned around and looked again. Sure enough, the gym dude smiled and winked at me. About a hundred points of confidence were cashing into my ego.

Day five: I took a trip to the Myer Centre shopping department store with Verity, who convinced me to buy a deep-red wrap dress with a nice split on the side. After Verity dropped me home, I changed into the dress and hit the town that evening with Maddy. We saw a male strip-show at one of the town's hottest nightclubs. It was ladies' night at the club and we were in for a treat.

I ended up making out with one of the male strippers later that night, when they were off-duty and drinking beers. Of course, there were women trying to chat them up. To be honest, I was kind of bored, but Maddy said there was no harm done by simply talking to them.

That was all it was meant to be, until she started making out with a blond, bronzed Thunder from Down Under, while I was left on the side, twiddling my fingers and sipping Sex on the Beach. Blondie's fellow stripper friend, a buff, dark-haired angel with blue eyes, came to my side, and after some heavy flirting, he kissed me. He was a damn good kisser too.

By the end of the night, I was over Brock.

Okay, bring back the technicolor to the current moment. After years of not seeing Brock Miller, he stood in front of me in a smelly, old bus.

"Kingsey, it's great to see you! Can I sit here?" he asked, motioning towards the empty seat next to me.

"Sure, take a seat," I quipped.

I took one look at Brock and immediately realized he had put on quite a lot of unhealthy weight and did not look fit. He was huffing and puffing, as he sat down. He had a bag of Krispy Kreme donuts clutched to his chest. His hands and forehead were sweaty, and it was not a particularly warm day. That was not a good sign.

The healthy football jock from our college days was a shadow of the past.

"How's life treating you, Miller?" I asked, as Brock coughed, wheezed, and sneezed.

"It's busy. I'm working in town," he responded.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that." I smirked and tilted my head.

"How about you? Life seems to be treating you well. Dang, Kingsley, you're smoking hot these days!" Brock let out a low whistle while eyeing my curves.

Not a chance, Miller. Not a chance. I threw Brock a smug smile and shook my head slightly.

Just like Bruce Lee trapped in the room full of mirrors, I was trapped in a bus full of people, and just wanted to get the heck out of there.

The feeling of being held captive by the past sure wasn't fun anymore. It created a sense of air-choking claustrophobia.

I managed to keep the conversation light by talking about the people we studied with - where they were and what they were doing these days.

"So, have you met anyone?" Brock asked.

"Yeah. I've met a guy," I lied.

"He's a lucky guy, then," he replied.

"I guess so. Hey, my stop's here. See you around, Miller!" I stood up and moved past my ex, who sneezed a bit of donut on my Hugo Boss skirt. Gross.

I did not turn back. The past needed to stay in the past.

***

After work, I hit the gym to release the stress and find a new burst of energy. I always felt great after a quick cardio workout. The start was always painful, but when I hit the peak, I felt more alive than ever.

As I finished my workout, I noticed two young women sniggering and sneering at an older woman, who was struggling with an apparatus she was working out on. As soon as the woman realized that they were making fun of her, her face fell.

"Hey, is there a problem here?" I walked up to smug-faced, young brunette, who fiddled with her hair extensions, while trying to suppress a laugh. Her friend, who had Goldilocks curls, averted her eyes from my incandescent gaze, which could have burned holes.

"Why would you think there was a problem?" Brunette sparred a question with a question, while her eyes gave me a cold, blank stare.

"You tell me." My shoulders squared and I stood straight, bust out and legs firm on the ground.

"C'mon, Chez, let's go." A rightfully embarrassed Goldilocks nudged her friend.

The Brunette glared at me and attempted to step into my territory when she walked away. I refused to budge or be intimidated. I stared back until Brunette and Goldilocks were out of my way.

When they were gone, I was about to turn and leave, when I heard a soft "thank you" resonate from the older woman. My eyes locked with hers and I nodded, before walking away.

After showering and leaving the gym, I noticed a call was coming through.

Great. Fantastic, another ex. Ben Adams.

"Hey, Ben," I answered the phone.

"Hey Eva! Listen, my washing machine's broken. You don't mind if I borrow yours?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of desperate, here. I've got a work function tomorrow evening and I have these pants that need washing," he pleaded.

I sighed.

"Fine. Come over in half an hour." I resigned to the fact that I was an agony aunt to Ben Adams at times.

He was a solicitor who worked for an established inner-city law firm. We were living together for a few months, until we drifted apart. On the outside, everything seemed flawless. Like a delicately decorated ceramic Easter egg, regardless of the opulent outer appearance, the core of our relationship was empty and hollow.

When Ben came over to use my laundry machine, I realized that there was no point being petty. I had a feeling that I would need his help one day. When that day came, he would remember that I let him borrow my laundry machine.

***

As my head rested on the pillow that night, I thought of my earth angel, Sven. He was like a divine being who fell on Earth. I wanted him. Moreover, I wanted to be his.

What was he doing tonight? I wondered.

It was foolish to feel so much for a stranger. Or was it?

That night, I dreamed that I was heroine in a Harlequin romance novel, wearing a torn and ripped regency dress, where I buried my head into Sven's bare chest, with my longer-than-usual hair flowing against the wind.

***

The alarm buzzing from my phone at 6.15 a.m. was like a cold splash of water to my libido, rudely and shamelessly waking me up from a deliciously hot and steamy dream of Sven.

Shit. Another day of work. I hit the snooze button and rolled over, but could not bring myself to sleep in a little more. It was time to have a warm shower to soothe my aching head from the alarming awakening.

An hour later, as I walked around the third floor of Hudson Engineering to deliver my expense report to the payroll department, I overheard some giggling, followed by a familiar, deep voice.

"Oh, you really didn't need to do this for me." The giggling voice belonged to Marissa Thomas, the office gossip who made it known from the start that I was not welcome to sit with her "group" of colleagues in the canteen during lunch.

I rolled my eyes, realizing that Marissa, who created quite a commotion over a hot, new engineer who started at Hudson Engineering, was flirting with the said engineer.

Just as I started to wonder what the guy's name was and if he was a fresh graduate, the deep laugh was enough elicit a strong reaction: my head snapped back like a rubber band, and I wrinkled my forehead.

Wait a minute, that voice sounded familiar!

No way, this could not be possible!

A/N: The "Enter the Dragon" clip cracked me up, especially around 01:36 when the tacky 1970s "porn" music started to play. Like Bruce Lee, our main character was desperate to move out of the trapped confines of the past and find a way out to the future.