Goodnight

Today, I will keep a lily in my bag. 

I will receive a special errand today. It is not that I particularly enjoy my profession, but it is one that must be done and will be done.

The skies will be white today, and I will have kissed many. Of course, there will be more to carry, but for that moment, I will sit and drink in the colors of the sky. 

Later, I will get ready. I will put on a lovely white dress, because it will set off my violet eyes. I will even go as far as to poise a lily in my hair, and it will complement my attire nicely. 

Satisfied, I will twirl gracefully in front of the mirror.

And for once, I will let my hair loose, and it will run down gracefully to my waist.

My hands will be washed, though they will never be clean again. 

I will stand silently in the bus station. The sky will have a light trace of flint, and the clouds will be soft and fluffy. An old man will be reading a magazine, and I will tear out the invitation for the Christmas Party I never remember and stuff it in my pocket.

All the buses except the one I am waiting for will stop and the old man will leave on the noon bus.

Soon, I will be on my bus. When I brush my fingers over the velour, a few strands will bristle at my fingers.

A few passengers will stare at me, but I will have become used to their gazes. One child will smile at me curiously, and I will smile back. A man will mumble something under his breath, and I will wonder if I should save a lily for him.

The sky will be silver, pale but smoothly spread across the cosmos.

I will arrive at the station early. Jake will not be there yet, so I will walk quietly to the waiting area and order a sandwich.

I will finger my scrapbook nervously. I will wonder why I am nervous. I will recount the thousands of times I have done this. But this is the first time I’ve ever done it to anyone I know. 

Something will pass through me. An odd mixture of anger and guilt and regret. 

But it will be too late to turn back though. The sky will be pewter already, dark and glossy with a twinkle of vengeance. It is never early enough.

Jake will arrive three minutes late. I will recall all the years I haven't seen him. But when he comes off the bus, I will smile, and wave shyly. We will ride silently to my place.

I will know what he will say before he opens his mouth. I will be seized with an urge to slap him, but I will curb my fury and plaster a smile on my face. It looks more like a wince. 

He will explain that he left for work or some other thing. He will really think I believe him.

We will chat casually for a while. The sky will be an ash cloud as I peer out of the kitchen window and serve the stew I will have prepared.

Jake will be half-way done with his bowl when he recognizes the taste. His pupils will dilate with fear.

He will choke, and in that staggering moment, I will leap on him and thrust a lily down his throat. A trickle of blood will dribble out of his mouth, and for a moment, I will immerse in the colors of his death. The bright orange of the lily will swirl with the now-gushing streams of Jake's blood.

And then, the sky will be black and the stars will be right.

I will kiss him.

Goodnight.