It does not matter now, she thought. Nothing does. She will close her eyes and everything will disappear. The world. The tears. The pain. That was what she hoped for, that was what she believed in, that was what she had never tried before. Because if she tried and it didn’t work, she would have nothing left to have faith in. Because if she closed her eyes and the pain were still there, she would be broken. She would be destroyed. Ruined. Quashed.

She walked to St. Mary Magdalene’s clutching a tan trench coat around her body.
It was the coat he had given her just two nights prior to his death and far too big for her lithe frame. Stopping just below her ankles it would have dragged the ground if not for her stiletto boots. Nevertheless, the coat protected her from the bitter winter wind, just as it had protected her from the splatters of blood the night he died.

Tabitha creased her sweater once again and wiped her tears.
She didn’t want him to know she’d been crying. He’d hate that.

Her eyes searched for that familiar face in the crowd that descended from the escalator.
Must be any minute now. She clenched on the barriers that prevented her to rush through the customs and find Carl herself.

They met in a formal dinner. She was nervous. He was sweet. They both led very busy lives with very demanding careers. He managed to make quite an impression, until he took her to the middle of the floor, and asked her to dance the chicken dance with him. In a black-tie formal event. Utterly shocked, her eyebrows shot up as she asked him, “You’re joking right?”

She woke up and instantly checked the clock. 3 am. Not that bad, she thought. Yesterday it was 2 am, the day before she had not have any sleep at all. She hardly could sleep since he had gone. How could she sleep if he was not there. She was sitting on her bed, looking around, waiting, ready to see him enter the room. Though she knew he never would.

“Take up that Kentucky incense and smoke it, Bernerd!” the old woman said, pointing to the hand rolled cigarette in the ashtray of the fifty-four Fairlane, “A man of yer age and ya ain’t learnt better than ta’smoke.” She scowled folding over the top of her leather purse, “Old fool,” she grumbled.

Bernerd reached over and butted out his homemade smoke never taking his eyes off the night road. “Only and old fool would take an old crank like yew ta’the hospital in the dead’ a night, Ethel. Now hush, I’m in heavy traffic.”

Dogs are smart. I can bet they are smarter than some people. Have you ever seen dogs cross the road? They wait patiently with the crowd as if they know that red is a signal of a danger and green is a permission to go. Trust me, many people can’t tell the difference. They run a red light. Alone. In groups. With kids. I hate it the most when they run against the red signal with kids. Kids should not suffer because of their parents’ stupidity.

“It’s over Aaron!”

These words resonated in his head as he starred aghast at his screen. Aaron was flummoxed to say the least. To add salt to his wounds, Julia wasn’t even responding to any his replies.

Somewhere else, Julia enters her room.

“Timmy! What the hell are you doing on my computer?”

Slumping in the chair next to the bed, he watched his father and considered Camus: “Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.”

Such emptiness in those words. Such a lack of anything, he thought.

And yet, they were a luxury.

He stood, turned off the respirator, and considered the calendar on the wall.

“I’m done. Meet ya backstage”, Eric quickly whispered. She flitted as though led by hypnotism

He pecked at her cheek

“You missed!”

Flirty conversation …Making out.. .All was quiet but for the suspiring noise.

“This is a ruddy university not your bedrooms!!”

Naturally panicking Eric said “Somebody call the ambulance. I’m on with the Heimlich maneuver”

Back from the rehab institute, she glanced at it and smiled.
She sank on the couch, ignoring the temptation. A sudden urge took over her. She was drawn towards it.

She uncorked it and took a gulp. She thought she could take more, perhaps with a new organ.
She arranged for an urgent liver transplant.

“Where are you?”
“Almost reached the station”
“Only 15 minutes more” - Anxious voice.

10 minutes: luggage placed inside.

5 minutes: His eyes still searching her.

1 minute:

Expectation..!!
And there She comes.
But train has already vanished to some distant world.
She sat on the bench crying. She has missed it. The last moment!!

Amanda was lying on the postmortem table and her body ripped open. The corpse’s foul odour soaked in ethanol was shearing the intestines devastatingly through the nostrils. The doctors were flummoxed on the brutal cold blooded murder case. They couldn’t find the clue.
Joe said, “I found it”
“What??”
“Can’t tell now, 55 words reached.”