Plastic Dishes

So there he stood washing a plate. But something was different. His eyes looked elsewhere, distant, away from the suds and cold tap running through his fingers. Lips, although silent, fluttered a free jazz rhythm, betraying the otherwise hidden conversation that went on inside his tilted head. It's a girl again. Hello. How are you? Smiles about a past good time. She's just as real as he, standing playfully with a full scoop of charm.

Then reality. 

The sound of dogwater going down the drain. It was just him and the dishes.