His blur

The briefcase was cold in his hand. It was like the cold that brushed his shoulders as he stepped outside. A cold night, a lucid moon, heaven’s eyes shone in the black as a divine watchful mother surveying her children-the stars. The shades of glasses were like fathomless pits, the empty pits of the moon. It had seen too much. It reflected the ever streams of silver light as he swiftly vanished from her sight. A smudged dark blur.  

“Order! Order!”  

 The hammer in one fist and the right hand obligingly supporting the plump, lazy slab of a cheek that had collapsed on its knuckles. The day was tedious and dull. If it wasn’t for the outstanding paycheck that was shipped to her account every month, she would have left the courtroom 12 years ago. Instead of watching the wrinkles of dry paint fold over the courtroom’s walls for the long period of her life. Today, it was a case of robbery. Someone had stolen the till from the shop which was found ‘wrecked’ in an old lady’s garden with no money in it. Now it was the persecution's turn to give their evidence on the old woman who had ‘stolen’ the till. The judge’s eyes flickered back and forth over the heads of the people sitting in the room. the jury looked withdrawn and silent in the scene. only one or two had a painted look of enthusiasm on their face. 

Hurry up already! She thought.  

She couldn’t wait to kick her feet on the table and watch season 3 of the crown whilst hugging a bag of popcorn. She could see it now. Her eyes soon led up to the door. Wide open and beckoning. She sighed. Her hand was beginning to ache. The heavy mallet in her hand had increased in size over the years. Now that she was getting older. She stared at the exit intently waiting for something exciting to happen.   

Click.  

The judge blinked. A black blur glided across the hallway that lay right after the teasing doorway. Her eyelashes gently stroked her cheek as her eyelid began to close.  

Haven’t seen that before?  

She let the wrinkles show as she scrunched up her face in confusion.  

“End of procession!”  

He crossed the streets of black ink as his polished shoes dipped into the dripping ink like the perfect imagery of a quill and a bottle of ink. The sticky substance blotting the white arrows painted on the roads as he crossed it quickly with a stiff posture. The woman eyes widened as she tried to follow him trying to imitate the posture of the man. The red car came sprinting forwards. She screamed, curling herself into a tight ball.  

The woman pulled the bag over her shoulders as pushed her spectacles on top of her bridged nose. She locked the courtroom as she waited for the satisfying click to fill her ears.  

“Judy!”  

The woman jumped in her high heels nearly slipping away from her feet. Her hand pressed against her chest in an upper class formerly manner of shock. Her brows relaxed in the sight of a stout, petite man.  

“Gerald!” she breathed. “How nice it is to see you!”  

The man clutched a barrel of roses in his arms, stretching it towards her.  

“Is that for your wife?” the woman asked, ironing her skirt with her palms.  

The old man shook his head.  

“No, it’s for you!” he exclaimed, handing it to her as if it was obvious.  

A flash of black slithered behind him as she hugged the roses, vigorously.   

“This would do nicely-” she began.  

The woman froze staring into the distance.  

Gerald tilted his head to the side.  

“Are you-?”  

The woman thrust the flowers back into his arms before running out of the glass sliding doors of the building.  

"Judy? where are you going?"

the voice was as confused and shocked as she was but, for now, needed no answer. 

The man bent over her as the red car dispersed into the air, materializing into the lamp post beside her. His eyebrows were sharp and horned like the tip of talons of a rusted nail. Beneath the eyebrows were the burnished frames that sat above the nose. It was quite the opposite of dismantled. The even steps from his nose lead to his cheeks were the unique lengths of a rectangle as the tip of the nose was finalized with a straight line. Immaculate yet charming. The hand-stretched out towards her was also cold as her warm veins rubbed against his palm. She let go. Momentarily, glancing at the ground before looking up again. But he was gone. The black blur disappearing around the corner, evaporating into the thick fog.  

The cold bit her, tirelessly, as her eyes darted around the street for the dark blur. It was already dark so finding him will be extremely difficult. The woman hugged herself in the breeze as her the arms of her scarf tried to wrap themselves around her but failed as they flopped aimlessly in the bitter cold.   

The woman held the lampshade for support, but she couldn’t hold the lampshade as her fingers slid through it. She gasped in shock. Panicked, afraid, shocked-what was happening?  

‘Judy’  

The woman bit her lip. Did Gerald decide to follow her? She glanced behind to check. The dark was as blinding as the sun’s dagger as her eyes preened over the soft-lit outline of the street. 

How crazy he’ll think I'll be she thought.  

‘Well sometimes you are’  

The woman jumped. This wasn’t Gerald. Gerald could never read her mind. Even to save his own life. Nobody could. She couldn’t do it.  

“God?” she queried, biting her tongue in confusion. The beads of sweat stuck to her palms like rat glue, warmed for the presence of a scrawny creature.  

The voice laughed. It was deep and rich and echoed around the street like an amplified amp in a concert.   

“Do I sound like God to you?” the voice sneered, snorting as it did.  

The voice was highly familiar and recognizable. It sounded like-  

“James... James... It's you, right, am I right?” she shivered, her bottom lip trembling.  

‘it’s Mr. Osteen, to you. At work’ the voice replied, indignantly.  

‘How is it?’  

The woman looked up, petrified and unmoving. her eyes glanced past him in a daze, wondering, wondering, wondering.  

The man smiled; the corners curled in sympathy.  

‘Well, this is your life now’ he shrugged, turning away from her.  

“Wait! Don't go!”  

Her voice was fleeting and light-still confused.   

He froze.  

“Why?” she asked, still staring at her fingers. “Why?”  

The man rolled his eyes in impatience.  

“All these years you’ve been wondering where’ve I've been, am I right?”  

“But-”  

He waited for no response.  

“it’s not all that bad...” 

he clutched his bag, turning away from her.

"James!"

the man kept on walking as if he hadn't heard her.

"James! when do I see you again?"

there was a pause; the only thing that moved was the heavy curtains of the wind.

"at work...tomorrow"

he soon dispersed into the eye of the moon, leaving the woman cold and confused.