I’m fine because I can’t afford not to be.

“Why?” She breathed out a familiar question, waiting for an answer that will never come. And, deep down inside, she knew that too, but she asked again nonetheless.
“Why?”

---

Her eyes wandered to the note he had left her. She lifted the paper, running her fingers over the grooves of his familiar handwriting.
“Love, if you’re reading this, I’m probably already gone.”
The curtains billowed, caught by a gust that had found its way through the open balcony doors. Her hands trembled as she forced herself to keep reading.
“We both knew that this would happen at some point. And from our conversations before, I’m sure you saw this coming. You’re insightful, after all.”
She could see him pause and twirl his pen a few times, hesitating as he always did before deciding to let his sincere thoughts shine through.
“That was one of the many things I have always loved about you.”
A tear stain smudged the word “loved”, but she couldn’t be sure if it was his or hers.
“To be honest, I did not plan on writing this note, but it would be hard on you if I left without a trace, and I owe you that much, at the very least. Unfortunately, we both know that any explanation I could come up with would not be enough to satisfy you. So why don’t we let my thoughts justify my decision instead?”
She could hear a hint of his wry condescension, and she hated it.
“Patronizing until the very end.” She muttered through clenched teeth.
“I’d like to start off by thanking you. You did everything in your power in your attempt to change my mind, and for that I am very grateful.”
“I would also like to apologize for squandering your concern, but you never did take too kindly to my apologies.”
She was tempted to rip the note to shreds. Every single word was carefully considered, devoid of emotion, as he often did to maintain distant. She’s known him far too long to fall for this again. So much for letting his thoughts justify his choice.
She wanted to see the him who lurked behind the impersonal politeness, the him who expressed his opinions with a passion and unafraid to cry. But it seemed that, even at the very end, he could not allow himself to show her that side of him again.
“You once asked me what I cared about the most. Without hesitation, I replied ‘friends’. You then followed up with a question that stumped me. ‘If you cared about your friends, why would you contemplate death?’ At the time, I had no answer for you. But now, having made up my mind, the answer is quite clear to me. Friends make living bearable. Without them, I would have died a long time ago. But I am not drawn to living. I am drawn to friends. Living in itself is exhausting, and death is its only relief. So in life, I do care greatly for my friends, but they are a part of life, and, if pushed to choose between life and death, death is far more appealing.”
She remembered that night. It was the first time he allowed her to peek under his mask, and she loved him for it. There’s a certain warmth in someone showing you their vulnerabilities, and he felt more human to her that night.
She never did understand his desire to die. When he first brought it up, she cried, thinking it was imminent. But as the years passed, and he never progressed more than his words, she grew numb to it. His casual mentions of it had her assuming it was a macabre joke, a product of his poor taste in humor. His flippant attitude on the subject only angered her, as did his inclination to follow his thoughts with a smirk. But now…perhaps she should have treated him more seriously. If only she had heard the truth underneath his mirth. If only she had left enough of an impact to make him reconsider. If only…
“Knowing you, you are probably blaming yourself for this, but I’m afraid it has never been in your control. You of all people should know that I am not one to make emotional decisions. I weighed the options. Should I live another thirty years, against the ever increasing burden of life, just for the chance of garnering more happiness, or should I be satisfied with what I’ve experienced, and call it quits while I’m ahead?”
His words stung, rending her heart with their bluntness. In her mind, she knew he was wrong, but she could not form the words to argue against him. All that was left were the “why’s.”
“I agree. It is a rather selfish way of thinking, but could you indulge me, just this once? You once said you loved my stubbornness. You admired the lengths I would go, the sacrifices I would make to achieve something once my mind has been made. And this time, unfortunately, my love for you is part of my sacrifice. I apologize for any inconveniences I may have caused you, and you have my gratitude for all these years.”
“You could’ve said goodbye in person.” She muttered. She knew why he didn’t. She would have tried to stop him, and he would be torn between his decision and his love for her. He would either hate himself, or she would hate him, and he could not afford either. So he didn’t tell her, leaving a note to assuage her emotions, and clung to the hope that she would understand.
“I was never good at ending things. I suppose this is as good an end as I can manage. Please, take care of yourself. Yours truly…”
The letter trailed off in his messy signature. She set it down on the desk. Every fiber in her wanted to collapse, to scream, to make her displeasure known in some significant manner, but she kept herself together. She knew where to find him. Perhaps it was not too late. Clinging to that naive hope, she slipped on her coat and into her shoes, and hurried to his favorite drinking spot.
She struggled to catch her breath as she reached the lookout. Seeing his forlorn silhouette, she bit her bottom lip. He was slumped over on the bench they’ve shared so many times before, almost as if he was only taking a nap. Two cans of beer, one opened, sat next to him, the drying condensation on their sides taunting her. She took a ginger seat next to him and placed his head in her lap, stroking his cold hair.
“You knew I was going to come, eh?” She murmured as she cracked open the untouched can.
“Sharing a beer on this very bench, that was the start of it all, wasn’t it? You always did have a soft spot for the poetic.”
She drained it in one go. The stinging carbonation brought tears to her eyes and, with those tears, the emotions she had held back were freed. She crushed the can and tossed it aside.
“All the things we did, all the memories we shared, were they not enough for you? Was I not worth it, after all?”
She wept, her shoulders shuddering under the burden of all her regret and resentment. Her tears streamed down her cheeks onto his, leaving sparkling trails across his pale face. The world was silent, save for her grieving, until a siren echoed through the cityscape below, snapping her out of her sorrow. She wiped her face with a shirt sleeve, gazing down at his peaceful expression with puffy eyes.
“You may have taken the easy way out, but you’ve made it so much harder on the rest of us. Although, I’m certain you knew that, you insufferable, selfish bastard.” She bent to kiss his nose. “I love you.”
There was plenty of time to mourn later, but now, there was much to be done. She swiped open her phone, dialing three digits, a number she never thought she would have to dial.
And she sat there, cradling his head, until the sirens arrived.

You don’t miss something until you lose it.

“Y’gotta smile through the tears, Captain. Gotta always remember the good things, even when the bad things are happening.” Her cheerful voice echoed through his mind as the first clod landed on her coffin, splattering across and staining its pure white surface. People in their line of work never live long and, as sad as it is, everyone accepted that fact when they first joined. But logical acceptance rarely, if ever, dulls emotional pain.
The ceremony ended almost as soon as it began. The only guests in attendance were the other members of his team and, though each dealt with grief differently, they agreed that she would have wanted her funeral over as soon as possible. When the burial was complete, several took their leave, no doubt to visit the tavern or rest at home. A few lingered to mourn longer, but soon he was the only one left standing in front of her grave.
“I told you not to take the job.” He muttered.
“And I told ya to smile.” Someone patted his shoulder. He turned, only for his cheek to be poked by a cool finger. “Gotcha.” She beamed, her favorite pair of sunglasses nestled lopsided in her hair.
“…Surely you have better places to spend your Last Rite.” He adjusted her sunglasses. “You always wanted to find your parents, no?”
“Yeah, well, I figured that if I used my Last Rite to find them, you’d be sad, so I decided to visit you instead.” She winked. “Aren’t I considerate and sweet and nice and thoughtful and…” She trailed off as she noticed his whitened knuckles.
“The Last Rite is a valuable way to address any regrets you may still have. To squander it so thoughtlessly…I thought I had taught you better.” She scowled at his cold words, but her expression softened when she noticed the tears he was trying to hold back.
“Captain…I never knew my parents. The only reason why I wanted to find them was because I’ve always wanted a family. But I did have a family: our team. And you were the best father I could ever hope for. It’s a shame that I realized it far too late.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive your reckless daughter for leaving so soon.”
He pulled her into an embrace, his tears flowing free.
“You truly are the worst daughter anyone could ever have.”
She giggled and buried her face into his chest. “I’ll miss you.” She mumbled.
“I’ll miss you too.”
She pulled away from him. “My time is running out.”
“I see.” His expression returned to its usual stoic stare.
“Don’t join me too early, eh, Captain?” She smirked, the sunset casting a rosy glow on her cheeks. She flicked her sunglasses over her eyes.
“Don’t mistake me for a rookie like you.” He scoffed.
She stuck out her tongue in mock displeasure, then smiled. “Good bye, Captain.” She waved as she began to crumble to dust. “Take care.”
“Good bye.” He nodded and closed his eyes. A quiet crack echoed through the air, and when he opened his eyes, all traces of her had disappeared. With one last sigh, he straightened his coat, and trudged home.

Happy Birthday

“Happy birthday to me.”
The room was pitch black, save for two dancing dots of light, illuminating the outline of a melting 30. Rain splattered arrhythmically against the window. A streak of lightning flashed through the blinds, revealing a dark silhouette sitting at a cake.
“Happy birthday to me.”
The dark silhouette drew closer, swaying to the simple tune. It seemed to struggle with the leash around its neck. The harsh whisper made it impossible to tell the voice’s gender. The features of the silhouette’s face were barely distinguishable in the dim glow.
“Happy birthday to me~e.”
The voice quavered and cracked. Ragged breathing made the flames flicker as the silhouette sniffled. Its teary eyes reflected the burning wicks.
“Happy birthday to…me.”
The candles went out. A thud followed, as if something fell and was dragged along the floor. A sickening crunch resounded in the room, followed by a hacking cough, and then silence.
Another flash of lightning lighted up the room, revealing a limp mass dangling from the ceiling, its legs swinging gently.

healthy body, sick mind.

“So.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled with kindness. “Here we are again.”

“Here we are again.” He echoed, nodding to the dull thumps of her tapping foot. He tried to study her, but as soon as he focused on a single feature, the others blurred into a flesh colored haze. Giving up, his eyes wandered to his surroundings. It struck him that he did not know where “here” was, nor did he have any recollection of being “here” before, but he decided against voicing his concerns, expecting that she will soon explain what was happening.

“You really need to take your medication on time.” She chided.

Medication. He patted his pockets nervously, searching for the rectangular object that he had learned to hate, but couldn’t live without. He found it in his jacket pocket. He cracked it open and tilted his head back, greedily gulping down its contents.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, returning the capsule to its spot. When he opened his eyes, the world was sharper and he could see her face clearly. It seemed to him that he was in an examination room, talking to a nurse.

“There is no need to be so nervous. Loosen up.” The nurse jotted something down on her clipboard. “You have to release some of that tension before you pop, Ethan.” She stared at him reproachfully.

Was he really Ethan? She was talking to him, so he must be, right?

He nodded again. Noticing that his left leg was shaking, he shifted his weight onto it to quell it.

“Will I be alright, doctor?” His question came out as a hoarse whisper, in a voice he did not recognize.

The nurse looked at him curiously, pausing in her note taking.

“What makes you think that there is something wrong with you?”

She saw the confusion in his face and smiled.

“You’re just here for your checkup, remember?”

A checkup. That must meant something had been wrong with him. He could feel his stomach churning as panic slowly crept up his back. Both of his legs were shaking now, and it took a considerable amount of effort to still them.

“I don’t-” He coughed violently as the words caught in his throat. He wobbled as the coughing wracked his rib cage, and he struggled to regain his breath.

“Please, Ethan, take a seat. Would you like some water?” With a concerned look, the nurse guided him towards the chair he had been sitting in. He did not recall standing up or leaving the chair, and the discrepancy bothered him. Perhaps he was a bit more ill than he thought. His throat tightened and his mouth dried as he sat back down.

“Thank you.” He tried to steady his irregular breathing. He took his meds, didn’t he? Everything should be fine. He’ll be fine. There’s no reason not to be, right?

The nurse handed him a plastic cup. He downed its content, the coolness soothing his parched throat. He had not noticed his thirst until it was quenched. He leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing and willing himself to regain his composure. His ragged gasps gradually eased, but something else felt off. Chills jolted through his body as he realized he could not feel his pulse.

He hastily grasped at his chest, but there was nothing where his heart was supposed to be beating. The chills brought on shivering and his blood ran cold. He felt his head spinning. Or perhaps it was the room. The nurse looked concerned.

“Ethan. You need to breathe. Slowly.”

At her words, he realized that his lungs were screaming for air. To lost control of his autonomous body functions, was he going insane? He took a deep breath. No, he wasn’t. He should be used to this by now. After all, this wasn’t the first time, was it?

His heartbeats thundered in his ears as he shook off the dizziness. His head was throbbing now, and his body still does not feel like his own. But the pills finally seem to be working, and in spite of his turmoil, he smiled.

“Thank you, doctor.”

The nurse smiled at him as she jotted a few more notes down. “I’m glad you seem to be improving. Your next appointment is two weeks from now.”

She set her notepad aside and guided him to the door.

“You’re almost done with the recovery process. You’ll feel normal in no time.”

He turned to nod at her before leaving. “I know.”

Death

Four. I have courted Death on four separate occasions. She was a charitable host, welcoming my intrusions and sympathetic to my sudden departures. As amicable as she may be towards my visits, disappointment often flickered across her gentle facade, deliberate in their aberration. Deep down, I knew that her leniency was due to her confidence that I would return, that someday I will be unable to leave.

Death appeared as a woman to me, perhaps an attempt to be appealing, to invite a longer stay. She was attractive, unnervingly so. Her skin was pale, a white resembling wind-scoured bones. Her dark hair was unnatural in its ethereality. Her eyes were icy blue, an abyss of ancient wisdom. But still they shone with a childish curiosity, as if anticipating that I might show her something new. She always sat stoically at the head of an empty dining table. She never spoke, either due to inability or a lack of desire. No, it was her silent company you were expected to enjoy, and any attempts to converse would only result in the manifestation of her acknowledgement, a polite nod.

She was my personal Death; I’d wonder if anyone else would die while she was with me, for it was always solely the two of us. I had suspected that I was sparing some unfortunate soul a few more breaths of life, until I realized that Death does not know Time; for all she cared, I was there for an eternity. For as long as I remained in her presence, I was her only object of interest.

Perhaps that was why farewells were especially hard on her. After all, the longer you possess something, the more difficult it is to let go. Yet each time I would tempt fate, pushing the duration of each stay slightly further than the last. Indeed, each time, Death clung tighter to my soul, and that exhilarated me.

It doesn’t hurt if you don’t think about it.

“Good morning.” She murmured, her sweet breath hot against my cheek.

I opened my eyes. Her hums echoed along the corridor, blurring the line between dreams and reality. It was still dark, but hues of purple have already begun to stain the sky. I turned and drifted off to slumber once more, seeking solace from the cold in her lingering warmth.

“You’re going to be late.” She smiled down at me. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. It was the same mischief I fell in love with, infused with her quirks. She was beautiful to me, and the morning light accentuated her contours. She ran her fingers through my hair as she rested my head in her lap.

“For what?” My sleepy eyes did not stop me from admiring the view. I raised a hand to touch her, but I could not reach her. My heart skipped a beat as she drew closer to me. She traced a heart on my forehead.

“Perhaps it’s better if you don’t go.” She murmured. Her face darkened, and the world seemed a little more dreary.

She kissed me. “I will always love you. You know that, don’t you?”

I nodded. “And I-”

She pressed a finger to my mouth. A familiar melody began to play. “I know.” She smiled at me as tears began to roll down her cheeks, splashing upon mine. “What’s wrong?” I tried to say, but I couldn’t make a sound. Her tears fell faster and heavier, drowning me slowly. She cried freely, all traces of her smile gone. The music grew louder. I took a deep breath as my face was submerged, leaving me with nothing but a distorted view of her. And then, as the music reached a climax, that too faded away.

I woke up on her side of the bed, my phone screaming across the room. Her scent soothed me, and for a moment I was tempted to ignore it. But something compelled me to pick it up.

“Perhaps it’s better if you don’t go.” Her words echo in my mind. I hesitated for a moment, then brushed it aside. I was not yet delusional enough to believe in a dream.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” A voice hissed through the speaker. “Her service is about to begin.”

“Service?”

The voice fell silent. When it spoke again, it was cold.

“She loved you. If that means anything to you at all, if you want to maintain any shred of respect I have for you, you will be here before her cremation.”

It paused.

“I hope you’ll make it.”

I was left listening to the dial tone.

After a few moments of silence, I crawled back into bed. I curled up on her side and, taking in a deep breath of her scent, I drifted back to sleep.

Perhaps it was just a sleight of hand.

She was a burst of color, bobbing among the monochromatic dreariness as if she were only here for a walk. That may very well be true; the area was beautiful, sitting atop a grassy knoll, overlooking a pristine lake. Her bright demeanor drew glances, occasionally accompanied by murmurs of disapproval. She strolled on, unfazed, paying no heed to their quiet criticism. Soon she left them all behind, finding herself in a secluded glade she would come to know very well.

A lone stone and a patch of disturbed earth marked his resting place. Her finger traced the freshly engraved letters, the testimony to his death.
“Hey.” She greeted him, as if she were expecting a response.
He looked at her curiously, from beyond the veil. His gaze warmed as he recognized her. “Why, hello. I was hoping you might visit.” He smiled in welcome, his legs dangling over his tombstone. A gust ruffled her hair, a mimicry of how he used to.

She sighed, berating herself for the moment of naive hope. He grew somber as he realized she did not, perhaps could not, notice his presence.
With a flourish, a carmine rose appeared in her hand. “Ta-da.” She gently placed it on the bed of soil.

“Thanks.” He swirled around her, examining the rose. He never understood how she could make things appear at will; and now, he never will. Then again, never is a strong word for someone who might still exist for quite a while. Perhaps he’ll figure it out, just before he fades into limbo. Satisfied with that thought, he reassumed his position on his tombstone.
She stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, hesitant to linger, but desiring to stay a while longer.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down, leaning against the back of his gravestone.
“I can’t believe you’re gone.” She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly.
She paused for a moment.
“Sometimes, it still feels like you’re here.”
“Bingo.” He shot her a wry smile.
She fell silent. A wren took advantage of the lull to warble, shattering the quiet. For a few moments, they listened to its song, immersed in its emotions. The moments passed as quickly as they had begun, leaving the two of them in tranquil intimacy.

“No one would’ve blamed you if you didn’t go back, dummy.” She said softly.
“But you knew I had to.” He whispered next to her ear.
She smiled dolefully, as if she could hear him in the playful breeze.
“I promised not to cry, so no tears of mine will touch this ground.” She declared loudly, to no one in particular.

He was already catching them as her bravado cracked. They shimmered in his ethereal palms like diamonds, though no diamond could ever express her love as much as these. Her shoulders shook as she wiped at her cheeks. He swirled around her, holding her in an intangible embrace. “I miss you.” She mumbled, abandoning her attempt to stem her tears. Her sobs tore at him, and he cursed himself for not being able to comfort her. In helplessness, he held her, feeling her warmth, but knowing she could not feel his.
She regained her composure as the skies took on vivid hues. “Heh, it seems like I broke my promise.” She pulled a blue handkerchief from thin air. With it, she dabbed at her reddened eyes, embarrassed. “I hope you didn’t see that.” “If only you knew.” The amusement in his voice was tinted with a hint of regret.

“The sunset is beautiful here. They chose a great spot.” She gazed at the horizon as she stood up, dusting herself off. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m afraid I must be off.” She gazed longingly at his grave. “I’ll come visit again.” With a small grin, she strode slowly away. Still perched atop his tombstone, he waved at her back. “Goodbye.”

I don’t know how to love, so I like you instead.

With wistful eyes he gazed at her, knowing full well what he had to say, but realizing how little he wanted to say it. She studied him expectantly. She felt different today. Distant. Foreign. Perhaps it was because of the glow of the waning sunset. “Well?” Her inquiring tone did nothing to mask her slowly growing impatience. “What did they say?” “…Two weeks.” A hint of shock flickered across her face. The harsh reality of the reply shattered her hopes and caught her off-guards. She struggled to maintain her composure. “So soon?” She whispered. He nodded slowly, morosely, suffocating with the finality of his confirmation. “So…what now?” She murmured, partly to herself. He took a deep breath. “Thank you. For every-” “Don’t.” She interrupted sharply, turning away from him. “There’s still two weeks. I don’t want to hear that now.” A quiet sniffle betrayed her tears. He felt the urge to wrap his arms around her waist, to pull her into a consoling embrace, but he didn’t. He knew it would only serve to postpone the inevitable. Instead, he patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

She glared at him. She was expecting more, and her disappointment showed.

“Fine without me, huh?”

He grimaced.

Perhaps he should have embraced her; they could have been on their way home, where a filling meal and a night of passion would have awaited them.

But alas, he had made his decision, and it was too late to regret.

“That was not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

They were more than friends, but not quite lovers, merely companions of the night. It would have been easier if they were lovers; he could kiss her and they would have a good laugh about it afterwards. Or at the very least, she wouldn’t have the means of further interrogating him about what was merely an honest mistake. Unfortunately, she wasn’t comfortable with that level of intimacy; she had told him as much, when he had proposed a steadier relationship.

Ah, screw it. He kissed her, catching her off-guards. Her eyes widened, then closed as they immersed themselves in the moment. For a split second, the world stood still. All that mattered, all that existed, was him and her.

A sharp pain interrupted the bliss. He pulled back, tasting blood on his lips. He winced. She was livid, her eyes blazing. Yeah, he probably deserved that. People aren’t usually accommodating when kissed against their wishes. At least she had the grace to allow the kiss to run its course.

“How dare you?!”

At least she’s no longer asking about his blunder.

“And don’t think for a moment that you have gotten out of answering my question. What did you mean?”

He didn’t have much experience with lose-lose scenarios, but at least the kiss was enjoyable.

He rubbed his lips. Traces of scarlet coated his fingers.

“I’m sorry. Not for kissing you. That was quite nice. For sounding like you weren’t important to me.”

He studied her face, as he had so often done at night, after she had fallen asleep in his arms. She wasn’t perfect, but it was her imperfections that accentuated her beauty. She was indignant, but, hearing his sincerity, her features softened and the tips of her ears flushed. She turned away, her hair shielding her face.

“Just…don’t do that again.” She mumbled.

Looking at her attempts to conceal how flustered she was made him realize how much he would miss her. Spurred on by the onset of stabbing loneliness, he nibbled at her neck. She yelped, and immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Not. In. Public.” She hissed angrily.

“You’re the most important person in my life.” He caressed her cheek gently.

Her expression darkened.

“That’s enough. Let’s go home.” Her tired voice gave no room for protests.

He nodded slowly. Perhaps he had pushed the boundaries a little too far. He sighed. Two weeks left to cherish her, to engrave every aspect of her to memory, and this is how it starts.

“Are you coming?” He looked up. She gazed back at him expectantly, having already begun walking.

“Coming.”

I miss you, more than I’ll ever know.

The wind dances playfully with the falling leaves, twirling them gracefully as they journey towards their death. Their bodies crackle under him as he trudges grudgingly towards a place he knew too well.

The wind tugs gently at his scarf, beckoning him closer to the drop. He sits down, his legs dangling slowly over the edge. He reaches out to the stars above him, so close, yet so far away.

“I knew you’d come back one day.” A familiar voice whispers softly behind him. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t turn to face the voice. “I brought flowers for you.”
“I saw. You shouldn’t have.” Her chiding betrays her pleasure.
“I thought you’d might like them. Viriona blossoms never wilt.”
“Viriona…” She murmurs. “Such a fitting name for such beautiful flowers.”
The wind traces an icy finger along the sharp contours of his cheek.
“Will you be staying long?” She asks, her voice hopeful.
He takes a deep breath. “No. I’ve stayed too long as it is.”
“I see.” She sighs sadly.
Silence fills the distance between them.
“When will you return?” Her question clung to the last strands of hope.
“I do not know.” His curt reply severs them.
He feels her take a few ginger steps towards him.
“Don’t.”
She freezes.
“Won’t you at least look at me, so that I may see your face before you go?” She pleads.
He closes his eyes. The wind picks up slightly.
“Very well.”
He turns to face the voice. No one met his gaze.
He sighs softly.
“Rest well.”

“I wish you weren’t on the other side.” She whispers, her breath cold on his neck.
“I wish the same, dear. I wish the same.”

Sample #3

A light drizzle shrouded the night sky with a thin, white mist.
The masses getting out from work were undeterred, slowly trudging their way back home.
Home. The word danced at the tip of my tongue, then melted away, leaving a sour aftertaste.
Three steps, and a familiar door greeted me. A door I’ve seen more of than my place’s.
I pushed it aside. A warm draft greeting me, leaving only memories of the cold, wet night.
The bartender glanced over at me, nodding in greeting. I knew him well, that his wife left him for a businessman, that his children didn’t even recognize him any more, that this bar was all that he had left.
I scan the bar. There were familiar faces all around. I look over to my usual spot. There was a difference, a switch from my daily life.
Looking back, perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was fate. She snapped me out of my cycle, by sitting there that day.
She was just a new face. New faces were unusual, but they never stayed long.
I walked up to take a seat next to her. Her tawny eyes stood out from her almost pale skin. Her hair, a dark shade of brown, complemented her eyes almost perfectly.
An empty glass sat on the counter in front of her. She stared into nothingness, ignoring all that was around her.
I tilted my head slightly. A thin, black cashmere sweater veiled the outline of her chest. The jeans stretch taut against her almost athletic legs.
She looked at me, as if noticing my stare.
The bartender set down a glass in front of me. Bourbon, perfect for the weather. I drained it in one.
I felt her stare on me, observing me as I did her. I returned her the favor, glancing back at her.
We looked at each other for a bit. She broke the silence. “Hello.”
Her voice reminded me she wasn’t a specimen; she was human too.
“Hello,” I replied.
She spun her body around, facing me. Her left sleeve was knotted at her shoulder.
She smiled at me, a slight smile, barely noticeable. “So, what do you think?”
A flurry of thoughts circled through my mind.
What does she mean? What could I think?
“How did that happen?” I masked my uncertainty with a question.
She looked at me, as though she understood what I tried to do.
“A woman has her secrets.” She smiled, another ghost of one.
I gestured for the bartender. He raised an eyebrow at me. I nodded at her. He refilled her glass along with mine.
She tilted her head at me, almost playfully. “What are you planning, hmm?” She winked at me.
“Can’t a man buy a beautiful woman a drink?” I down mine almost instantaneously.
She studied me, searching for an ulterior motive. I ignored her stare.
Satisfied, she turned back to the bar, her hand resting on the counter next to her glass.
“I lost my arm in an accident.” She returned to her wistful look.
“For a woman who has secrets, you don’t keep them too well.” My casual comment earned a grin from her.
“Must be the alcohol talking. I’ve had quite a few already.”
She noticed my concern.
“It takes a lot more than beer to get me drunk.” She waved me off.
She drained the glass of bourbon, as if to prove a point.
“Although, I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along.” She stared straight into my eyes. Her tawny eyes had specks of gold in them. The intensity of her gaze forced me to turn away.
“Really? Why’s that?” The bartender replaced my shot glass with a glass filled with water and a lemon slice. Two shots of bourbon to a chaser of water, as usual. I took a sip.
“People react differently when they realize you’re missing an arm.” Her answer was different from the one I was expecting.
“You should show them more of your right side, then. I have a wonderful view of you right now.” I caught her off-guard with my brazen compliment. I feigned nonchalance, but I was swearing at myself inside.
She glanced away quickly. The tips of her ears, peeking out from beneath her hair, betrayed her blush.
She shook her head and turned back to me, a hint of red still lingering on her cheeks. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.” I returned to my drink.
Silence took hold of our conversation.
She kept her face expressionless, but I caught her studying me out of the corner of my eye.
“So, what happened?” I echoed my earlier question.
She tensed up slightly. She tapped on the counter nervously.
Another length of silence. I paused for a moment, realizing I didn’t know her name.
I open my mouth to ask, then shut it abruptly. Knowing her name would make this exchange of a story intimate. Intimacy with a stranger is deterring. Not knowing her name served both of our purposes well.
Her fingertips tapped out a rhythm, a rhythm I recognized almost instantly.
“I was a pianist.” She voiced my thoughts.
“Mariage D’Amour, right?” Her fingers were interrupted by my comment, fumbling awkwardly.
“It’s a bad habit. Piano pieces don’t sound right without the chords.”
“But now..” She swings her left sleeve weakly.
“Would you like another drink?” I gestured the bartender to pour her another.
“You’re paying, right?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“Only if I get to hear the rest of your story.” I finish my glass of water.
Her expression turned dark for a moment, but assumed a mask of defeat. A faint smile shadowed her face. “You know, you really are different. The blatant compliments, the lack of respect for privacy, the coercion…"She trailed off.
"I blame the alcohol.” The fingers on my left hand tapped out the chords to her previous melody.
She sighed softly, exasperated, perhaps. “I hope my story was worth your effort.”