Feel Me Don't You

The year is 2006 in the month of August. Unbeknownst to either individual, a gateway gestates between two strangers – myself and a young man named Andy McKee who hails from my regional backyard in Topeka, Kansas. Sensate information flows between like psychic IP packets. Faculties form lilting landscapes of acoustical architecture.

Basking on a Hawaiian beach, I am splayed like some carrion’s care package while thousands of miles away fingers tap frets in a musical marriage of harp and guitar. I am soon awash, waves luxuriantly lapping, in water as warm and welcoming as a prenatal paradise. Boundaries are bridged over the clefs of bass and treble. Each footstep of note and scale follows its melodic road map traversing through time and space to the past, present, and future.

If now is the winter of our discontent, a solace is attained – this moment, forever frozen.

(/nod DougieOh)

Marshall awakened Monday morning with an effulgent smile. Like a westward expansion squatter, his smile had taken up permanent residence in the area just north of his cleft chin, just south of his freckled nose, and perfectly equidistant between his high, freckled cheek bones. As he ran through his morning routine then headed for work, his thoughts wandered to Kat, which wasn’t unusual in the least, as most days and nights he found them invariably turning to her. She had claimed dominion over his mind and had quietly carved a niche for herself in his heart – a niche that was rapidly expanding to the size of the Taj Majal.

In all his past, no woman ever made him feel the way Kat did. It wasn’t that she showered him with special favors or praised him effusively; she was simply herself, a mirror to show him a better man – a man he wanted to be for himself, for her, for the world. The miracle, if he believed in such things, was that Kat felt similarly. Mirrored in Marshall, she had rediscovered a kinder, more compassionate person who had long ago been buried deep within her courtesy of countless callous exes. She knew a greater connection to friends and loved ones. She was inspired by him and understood a grander sense of purpose. She now felt more alive than at any point previously in her life. She was positively vibrant. The effects of this connection were so great they seemed almost tangible as anyone even remotely close to her would attest.

He couldn’t believe it had already been two months since their first weekend together and that each successive meeting was as pleasurable as the one preceding. Where had the time gone? They spent afternoons and evenings attending sporting events or watching them on TV, often celebrating with their own unique brand of fanaticism; whiled away hours winding their way from one discussion naturally into another even if the topics on the surface seemed disparate; enjoyed the simple, quiet pleasures of reading to each other or to themselves while lounging together – the magnets beneath the surface of their skin keeping them connected; and, oh, the sex was undeniably amazing. Just the thought of a mischievous grin from Kat combined with that look from her eyes – simultaneously dictating and imploring his next move – would cause him to stir deep within his core. These thoughts swirled about his head as he finally pulled into the parking lot at work. He needed a few moments to regain his composure lest he be forced to relive his grade school days which provided him with numerous zeros.

Marshall entered the red brick building and made his way past the customer reception area, restrooms, and on through the hallways with the sharp scent of solvents welcoming him to the work week. Most of the building’s walls were lined with multiple “Best of” awards from the past decade framed in Kat’s flea market finds – there was simply no better independently-owned-and-operated auto detailing establishment. Marshal found his way to the sparsely appointed office area he shared with his mother, Michelle, who had accepted the receptionist position when booming business needs demanded it and his father, Craig.

Craig Jackson, had built The Devil’s In The Details auto detailing facility in the early 1980′s from a solitary location in Rock Island, Illinois to a chain of fourteen businesses presently servicing the West-central region of Illinois. As the years progressed, Marshall had reluctantly assumed more responsibility in the family business and was made a junior partner on July 11, 2007. Make no mistake, nepotism was not the rule at Devil’s as the locals quaintly coined it. Craig Jackson prided himself on his staunch, old-world work ethic – he “lived to work” and expected his employees to follow suit. All of them. Marshall considered himself more the “work to live” type, although, many at Devil’s confidentially classified him as the “work if I have to” type. Old-world and modern-day work ethics clashed. Often. Regardless of the contempt Craig held for Marshall’s often times bewildering day-to-day methods, he could never dispute the results – Marshall always came through. Big. Gun to his head, Craig would admit no matter what decision Marshall made – as foolish and impractical as they appeared at the time – it always eventually turned beneficial for Devil’s and he was damned if he could figure out how. Prosperity had them poised to open an additional six locations within the region and soon thereafter three more in Eastern Iowa. The future had never looked brighter.

Michelle Jackson was a model of efficiency – as well as busybody-ness – and ensured Devil’s ran as smoothly as possible. This was no small feat in and of itself as she found herself quite often playing peace keeper between father and son during many heated business “discussions” – the Jackson’s weren’t the type of family who fought. Michelle frequently interjected herself into the middle of things for the sake of the business and, more importantly, the family regardless of the consequences. Currently that cost included increasing clumps of gray strands streaking through her shoulder-length auburn hair adding an extra decade to her, until recently, surprisingly youthful appearance. After sixty plus years, she was now finally showing her age and she wore her weariness like a wedding veil.

Craig and Michelle, both slack-jawed, stared blankly ahead into nothing. Their eyes were glossed over as Marshall entered the office to the sound of a busy signal emanating from his father’s phone.

Snapping from her abstraction, Michelle said, “Craig, we have to. Don’t we? How can we dismiss this?”

Returning the receiver to the cradle, Craig said, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” The shock of the last phone call still held him dumbfounded.

Marshall tossed his keys in the center desk drawer and closed it with a thump. “What’s up you two? Have you been hitting the pipe again?”

Although Craig and Michelle had lived through the Sixties, they were by no means the type to engage in any sort of illicit activities. Marshall was certain that his parents’ lives in the era of Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll was better described as the era of Abstinence, Abstinence, and More Abstinence – he was adopted after all. The irony of his comment was not lost on him.

“You’re not funny, you know?” said Craig. Marshall had a way of setting him off like no one else.

“Oh, he’s just joking and you know it,” said Michelle, “so why don’t you just relax and explain what happened with that last phone call.”

“Well not everything in this world is a joke!”

Craig was unusually tense in light of his recent conversation; he counted to ten in his head before turning to Marshall. “I just got off the phone with Greg James, the president and CEO of Dyn-auto Industries. They want to buy us.”

Marshall snorted. “So? They’ve made us offers in the past and, even when times weren’t the greatest, you’ve always refused them. What, has hell suddenly frozen over?”

Craig carefully considered Marshall’s comments for a moment. Dyn-auto Industries was a national chain of one-stop, quick-service auto care centers offering such combined services as car washes, oil changes, and auto detailing to name a few. Dyn-auto Industries had only been in existence for three years and already they had proven to have the fastest growing business model of any industry with facilities in every state in the US and just as many worldwide. Not only were they now the big kid on the block, they were the bully. Their business practices weren’t the most ethical. Their executives spewed corporate buzzwords more often than teenagers spout “like” or “awesome”. Their employees weren’t so much prized for their individual talents and skill sets as for their basic heat and drone-like efficiency. Where Devil’s prided themselves on their attention to detail and customer satisfaction, Dyn-auto offered speed and reduced pricing. Dyn-auto was the antithesis of Devil’s and Craig had sworn to fight them with his dying breath.

“They’re offering us eleven times the value of the business including the nine we have projected in the coming year.” Craig said. “They want it all, from the industrial vacuums down to the staples in our desks. They even want to keep all the employees. We would all be multi-millionaires.” He stared off into nothingness again.

“So what did you tell them? You said no, right? You always claimed that no amount of money could make you sell to a soulless entity like that.” Marshall said.

“I still can’t wrap my head around that much money.” said Michelle as she mimicked Craig’s blank expression.

“To the last, I will grapple with thee… from Hell’s heart, I stab at thee! For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee!” said Marshall. “Ringing any bells here, Khan?”

Craig closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and slowly shook his head, “How many times do I have to remind you? Herman Melville. Moby Dick. I told them I needed time to think. Your mother may be right, though, how can we dismiss that kind of offer?”

“So much for integrity, eh dad? I can’t believe you’d sell out. I’m going for a drive to clear my head.” said Marshall as he scooped his keys from the desk drawer and headed back out to his car.

Craig said, “Get your butt back in here mister! You don’t get to drop that on me and leave! Hey! You have work to do! Marshall!”

Cutting him off in mid-scream Michelle said, “Just let him go. You both need time to calm down and clarify your thoughts. It’s better you can do it without the other around at the moment.”

Marshall left the parking lot without any idea of where he was headed, he just knew he needed to get out on the highway and drive. He wasn’t quite sure why he had felt compelled to antagonize his dad by making such a big deal about Dyn-auto’s offer. It wasn’t that he really cared at all – he didn’t enjoy his job as it was neither inspiring nor fulfilling. The money would afford him the luxury to do anything he wanted or nothing at all. It would be total freedom. The more he considered it, however, total freedom seemed more daunting than liberating. What would he do? What could he do? Auto detailing was all he really knew and the thought of starting up his own business was utterly unappealing. Absent-mindedly he fumbled for his Bluetooth headset in the center console. Powering it on and placing it in his right ear, he said, “Call Kat mobile” and the cell phone dialed.

“Hi babe!” came the sweetest voice to his ears. The little terms of endearment were new to their relationship, but they came easily and gave them each a silly satisfaction. “What’s going on?” Kat’s voice had a calming effect on Marshall. No matter what stress or anxiety he was feeling, she could always melt it away within moments. He wanted to open up to her and explain what had just transpired.

“How would the most beautiful woman in the world like to be taken to lunch?” said Marshall.

“It’s kind of early for that, but I’ll ask her for you.”

“Ha ha.” he said. Sarcasm dripped from his lips. “You know I mean you, ya goof.” He could sense her smile through the phone.

“Yeah, I do, I just like teasing you. I’m sorry, though, I actually can’t join you today because we’re having a going away lunch over at Dali’s Deli for my co-worker, Susan. I really shouldn’t miss it.”

“Ah, ok, I understand. Please wish Susan the best of luck for me, hon?”

“Will do! You sound irritated or upset, are you okay?” She could already read him like no one else.

“Yeah, I’m okay I guess. We can talk about it later; I don’t want to bother you any more than necessary while you’re working.”

“No problem sweetie! Uh-oh, semi-emergency, gotta go, I’ll talk to you later tonight if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure, I’ll talk to you then.”

As they said goodbye and hung up, Marshall turned and headed back to work feeling better about everything. He thought to himself how amazing Kat was before it sank in what an understatement that was.

Kat placed her cell phone back in her purse and cheerfully waved in the female employee who had been patiently waiting at her door trying not to eavesdrop. Sara Wrighte was an administrative assistant and she had come to Kat for career help – her job made her feel miserable to the point she believed she died a little inside each day. Kat had been working for 4 years in the Human Resources department at Star Tech, an IT solutions group. While she was adept at disseminating all the mundane insurance information and company policies and procedures, she was truly gifted at identifying an employee’s strengths and placing them in the best possible job to maximize their career goals. Until this point, nothing had made her happier than unlocking someone’s potential and watching them flourish.

“Ok Marshall, I have the results of your strengths-based test here.” said Kat as she searched the stack of papers on her desk.

Sara said, “Excuse me?”

Kat immediately blushed. “I’m sorry. Sara, I have your results here.” She produced a two-page document and proceeded to walk Sara through what each strength was and what it entailed for her. Marshall’s face kept popping into Kat’s mind and it would cause her to pause and lose her train of thought.

Sara said, “I don’t mean to pry, but you seem to be awfully preoccupied. Does this have anything to do with the person you were talking to on the phone?”

The redness in Kat’s face deepened as she smiled and briefly averted her gaze. “Is it that obvious?” she said. A knock came from the door and broke the awkwardness as Susan entered without hesitation.

Susan said, “I have those files I promised to get you and oh my gosh your face is so red!” She turned to Sara, “Was she just on the phone?”

“Yeah, I think I interrupted something.” said Sara.

“Marshall.” Susan said, “I’ll bet she was talking to her new boyfriend, Marshall. You better be careful Kat or everyone around here is going to know you’re in love.” Susan made sure to elongate the word love to achieve maximum teasing results.

Kat couldn’t muster a word and tried her best to fight the gleeful grin that was spreading from ear to ear. Finally she had regained enough control to tell Susan, “Shush you! I’ll talk to you later.” Susan snickered softly and wheeled around to head out the door. Just before she left, she spun back around and mouthed the words, “Everyone already knows”. Kat emphatically raised both her eyebrows and pointed out the door. Susan was right, though, she was hopelessly, helplessly in love. It was just then that it dawned on her. Marshall made her even happier than her job and that was saying something.

Returning her attention back to Sara, she informed her that with the strengths she possessed, she would be a perfect fit in HR and she was in luck as a position was about to come open. Kat was a firm believer in the idea that when one door closes, another one opens. Sara considered Kat’s words carefully before realizing she was dead-on in her assessment. She submitted her name for the position, thanked Kat profusely, and went back to work with the weight of the world safely removed from her shoulders.

Lunch time arrived and found Kat seated in Dali’s Deli at a four-top table with her co-workers: Kris on her right, Susan across the table, and Steph on her left. While they awaited their orders, their conversation came at a rapid-fire pace and, much to her chagrin, it was focused on Kat.

“Girl, of course everyone knows,” said Susan, “you’re positively…”

“Glowing!” said Susan, Kris, and Steph simultaneously.

“You’re smiling all the time.” said Kris.

“You’re like J.D. on Scrubs. You constantly seem to blissfully drift off into one daydream or another”, said Steph, “and it doesn’t matter who you’re talking to at the time. Oh, and for the record, when you make up your excuses for why you’re distracted, I hope you realize that we can see right through you.” She snickered at Kat.

“It’s not like you weren’t ever nice to people before, but lately you seem extra nice.” said Kris.

“I don’t know if I can describe it exactly, but you just have a brighter disposition when you interact with people.” said Steph.

“For you to always be in this good of a mood, the sex must be amazing!” said Susan.

Kat was now completely red-faced and put-off by all the attention to her private life. She glared at Susan and said, “Can we get off me and get back on you?”

“Ding. What did Kat say to Marshall last night in bed?” said Kris in mock game show fashion.

Kat turned her glare to Kris and held it there for as long as she could before busting out laughing. “Ok, ok, can we please talk about someone else? Like Susan? Since she’s leaving us, isn’t she the woman of the hour?” she said.

“We can talk about me some other time. It’s not like I’m dying, I’m just going to another job. You’re the one who’s like, ‘lottery lucky’. We want to hear more about you and Marshall.” said Susan.

Like a child with an aluminum can on a lonely country road, Kat kicked around the phrase ‘lottery lucky’ in her head and grasped how apropos it was. “I suppose it’s true, but any of you could find someone who makes you feel the same”, she said as she began to giggle and point to three different men seated in the room, “like him or him or him.” Although she hadn’t realized it, she had giggled loud enough on the final “him” to draw the attention of the last man who had stood up and was now approaching the four ladies.

“Where is our food? I’m starved!” said Steph as she looked up to see the man now standing beside their table. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you scared me!” she said. “Can we help you?”

Beside their table stood the man named Apathy. His stature was squat and he was bedecked in a stained, dull-gray, Velour sweatsuit and white Chuck Taylor Oxfords. The dark horseshoe of hair that rimmed his head contrasted the pallor of his scalp and complemented his plain black, birth control-style glasses. While the four ladies would never catch his name, they would recall him, nevertheless, like a commercial jingle.

“Something amusing, ladies?” said Apathy with perfect evenness.

Their order, finally ready, was bellowed over the loudspeaker. “Number fifty-two, your order is ready, number fifty-two.” Not one of the ladies moved to collect their waiting meals. They sat stunned, taking in Apathy for what seemed an eternity until he cleared his throat and broke the trance.

Kat was the first to speak. “Oh, no,” she said, “I was merely pointing out potential partners to my friends here. I’m sorry if it appeared I was making fun of you.”

“Potential partner? Me?” said Apathy bemusedly.

“No offense, but she was just speaking extemporaneously. She could just as well have pointed to someone else.” said Susan.

“Number fifty-two, your order is ready, number fifty-two.” came the loudspeaker voice more emphatically.

Apathy stood for awhile considering the scope of the term “potential partner”.

“I understand.” he said before pausing for a few more moments. “I’m just contemplating the extremes of living as though floating on the highest cloud, every day a singular joy to behold and cherish versus realizing you’re born alone, you die alone, and every moment in between you’ll always be alone. What happens if you believe you have the first only to realize you have the second? Is it possible to go from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high? More importantly, I wonder what’s the point?” said Apathy flatly. His words gently washed over the four women causing each to slip into introspection.

“Number fifty-two, your order is ready, number fifty-two.” came the loudspeaker voice almost painfully loud, breaking their reflection.

“Excuse us, that’s our order.” said Kris as they all stood and retrieved their food.

“Certainly, goodbye ladies.” said Apathy.

They returned to their table and continued their lunch in silence, lost in their own thoughts, before returning to work. The stranger’s words had penetrated and gripped their consciousness and weren’t letting go.

————————————————–

The sun beamed brightly high above Destiny’s garden as a soft breeze lazily wagged the surrounding flora. Destiny floated over the garden walkways and while the bottom of his basic-gray robe grazed the ground, his feet did not. The oldest of The Endless, clutched the covers of the enormous, open, leather-bound book chained to his right wrist as the pages fluttered back and forth. He studied them with increasing agitation as he made his way to his gallery to call a family meeting.

Six life-sized portraits adorned the walls of Destiny’s gallery. He stood before the first and said, “Sister, it is Destiny. I stand in my gallery and I summon the family. Please attend me.” The image centered in the portrait shivered then came to life, stepped outside the frame and into Destiny’s gallery. Standing before Destiny was his younger sister – the second eldest of The Endless, Death. Death clad herself in a black blouse, jacket, and petticoat in stark opposition to her ivory skin. The corners of her eyes were decorated with hieroglyphs similar to the Eye of Horus. An ankh hung from the silver chain around her neck.

“Hi, big brother. You called, I came. What’s up?” said Death.

“All in good time my sister. We must await the remainder of the family.” said Destiny.

“I see. Perhaps you should get on with the summoning then. I have things I need to do and I’m sort of on a time limit here.” said Death.

Destiny merely headed for the next portrait.

“Sister Despair, it is I, Destiny of The Endless. I hold your sigil and call upon you to join our family gathering, please come.” Once again, the portrait shivered and Despair stepped through to his domain. Despair was Desire’s twin sister and where Desire inspired those to want – to desperately crave, Despair’s presence – cold and clammy – dashed the hopes of ever achieving those objects. Although she stood no taller than the petite Delirium, Despair was built like an ashen-skinned sumo wrestler and her voice grated at a whisper’s volume. She wore a hook signet ring and was prone to dragging it across her doughy physique, rending flesh when upset.

One by one, he summoned the remainder of his siblings Desire, Dream, and Delirium and they acquiesced.

“Greetings sibling, to what do we owe the honor of another family meeting so soon?” said Despair barely audibly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you actually missed us.” said Desire.

“Sister Desire, you know better than to assume such trivial affectations of me. I am Destiny and I act as I am to act. Let us adjourn to the refectory that we might discuss matters more dire and pressing.”

“It’s called a joke, Destiny, and you should learn to laugh. Would you like me to assist you with that task?” said Desire. She enjoyed goading him.

“He doesn’t joke and the thought of him laughing is laughable in its own right.” said Despair.

“You would do well to mind your place, sister.” said Morpheus. The Dream Lord recalled her slight against him at the previous family meeting and still hadn’t forgiven her.

“I miss Destruction, he could always make me laugh. One time he told me this joke that was so funny. Wanna hear it?” said Delirium. Without waiting for anyone to answer, she continued. “This platypus walks into a bar and says to the bartender… wait, no. Knock knock.”

Silence was all that met Delirium as they arrived at the refectory.

“Who’s there?” said Delirium to herself. “Wait, no. What do you get when you cross the Tibetan spiritual leader with… wait, no. Well I thought it was funny anyway.”

Death placed a comforting arm around the youngest of The Endless and said, “I’m sure it was dear one.”

“Thanks, sis, but if you just give me another moment, I can…”

“Hush, please Delirium,” said Destiny, “you will not remember your joke and we have more urgent matters at hand. Before we begin, my servants shall attend you should you require sustenance.” A host of robed servants appeared with food and drink to suit each sibling’s whim.

“Ok, you’ve got us all here, so spill it.” said Death. She wasn’t pleased with the way Delirium had been summarily dismissed.

“I believe what our sister means to say is, ‘Thank you for your hospitality, brother, but what is the nature of this meeting?’” said Morpheus. Morpheus was always keenly aware of his responsibilities – to his realm, to the family, and beyond.

“You can stop speaking for me, Dream. I said what I meant,” said Death, “now let’s get on with it.” She held Dream’s gaze for several moments before sticking her tongue out at him.

“Very well then, to the point. Events have transpired in the Waking World that threaten to unravel the domains of the entire family. Three will come and our futures rest within their hands as much as our own – they are entwined.” said Destiny.

“And let me guess… that’s all that you will tell us? Your precious book mandates your path in this matter – a path of ambiguity to those unable to read its pages. Let me see that book!” said Desire.

“The path Destiny treads has always been his alone. In solitude he has carried the weight of the past and future outcomes on his own. Please, my twin, a little respect for the burden he bears.” said Despair.

“I thank you for your compassion dear Despair, but Desire is correct. That is all I will tell you,” said Destiny, “for that is all I can tell you. The pages which guide me – guide us all – now obscure their secrets. The text is disappearing. With each passage that vanishes, so too a piece of my domain dissolves into the ether.”

Destiny peered down at the volume in his hands. Transcribed within its pages were the events and dialogue that had just transpired in his refectory. As he reached the words “The text is disappearing. With each passage that vanishes, so too a piece of my domain dissolves into the ether.”, the page slowly emptied and a chill overtook him.

In a moment such as this, The Endless assembled understood with concise clarity the definition of the phrase “silent as the grave”.

(As always, thank you Neil)

Freshly showered and still basking in the afterglow of the events from earlier that morning, Kat stood before the open side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator swinging the door back and forth in time with the tune jingling through her head. She scanned the contents of the fridge and near-imperceptibly sang to herself, “You got so much love in you. You got so much love in you. I’m amazed that I’m talkin’ to you. You look like the songs that I’ve heard my whole life coming true.” With her left elbow resting on the freezer door, she corralled her damp brunette hair behind her ear before resting her chin on her palm. She was so focused on what to eat for breakfast – which, according to the 12:15 displayed on the stove’s clock, should really be considered brunch – that she didn’t notice Marshall sneaking up behind her until he had wound his arms around her waist and said, “I don’t think anyone has ever made that jersey look so damned good! Not even Walter.” While he was finishing his shower, she had quickly thrown on his Bears jersey, which proudly displayed the number 34 and the name Payton, and hurried out to the kitchen to surprise him with something to eat before they headed out for the day.

Marshall thanked her for the thought by closing the door and spinning her around, forcing her back against the refrigerator careful to miss the door handles. Pinning her hands against the door just above her head, he locked eyes with her as he inched slowly toward her. Agonizingly. Slowly. He placed the softest kiss upon her chin then proceeded to kiss along her jaw line up to her left ear. Every ounce of breath instantly evacuated her lungs and she turned her head to the right, arched her back into him, and drew her right leg up and hooked it behind his knees to pull him closer. He gently nipped her lobe as the heat of his breath brought these words from his lips, “Thank you for the thought…” Another warm breath carried, “but we need to get going…” A tender kiss, then “if we’re going to get you to the flea market.” She shuddered and turned to face him before fusing her lips and body to his.

Moments later and against every urge within her, she pulled away from him and said, “Ugh! You’re mean!” His feigned look of innocence was his only reply. “Don’t even pretend you can wear a halo after what you just did!” she said as she playfully slapped at him. This brought a full-belly laugh from each of them as they twined their hands and headed back to the bedroom to change. As they passed several rooms, she noted his eclectic, perhaps even mismatched decor. Not wanting to delay their afternoon further, she made a mental note to investigate further when they returned. They both layered their attire appropriately, perfect for an extended period in the cool Fall weather of one of the final open-air flea markets of the season.

The trip to the flea market included their always engaging style of conversation but was otherwise uneventful as Marshall guided his black 2008 Honda Civic Hybrid through the lazy Sunday drivers. In fact, there were only two items of particular note about the entire drive there. First, Marshall is a man who lives by few rules. However, one of them is if you’re the driver, you have control of the stereo – no arguments, no discussion. Perhaps it was the newness of their relationship or more likely he simply trusted her, but he willingly forfeited that control to Kat. Second, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It wasn’t a biological imperative, it was a skin craving – a dermal magnetism. Not even the wonders of the flea market could break their connection for very long.

The flea market was as it usually was – loud, dingy, and crowded with colorful characters. Kat truly didn’t enjoy shopping, but when she succumbed to its sway, she was unrivaled at finding bargains. She didn’t go in for the standard haggling over junk that was the norm, but revelled in finding those unique fixer-upper projects. She relished relics, but even an item with an intriguing look or story would suit her. More appealing to her than the objects found at the flea market were the people – the vendors, the thrift-seekers, everyone. Amidst the bustle of the market, she delighted in casually sauntering about with a delicious coffee in hand and being entertained by the other bargain hunters. Quirks, foibles, motivations, dialects – she was fascinated by it all, sometimes distractingly so. She was particularly captivated by a young, down-on-their-luck, couple from Anytown, USA whom she had overheard comparing and contrasting items from what they would soon learn to be, to their brief embarrassment, a refuse pile. She wanted a better grasp of their discussion, so she moved as quickly and surreptitiously as possible towards them. It wasn’t until she blindly collided into another young woman and spilled a portion of her coffee on her that the enchantment was broken. Kat wasn’t as graceful as her name might allude, in fact, her many bruises branded her a klutz. She apologized quickly and profusely before really noticing the young woman. Her attention was instantly riveted once more.

Standing before Kat was the diminutive young woman named Delirium whose appearance, if one so desired to utterly understate, was eye-catching. Her long, blonde, wavy tresses were interspersed with sections of rainbow-hues on the right half while its left counterpart remained short, blonde, and spiked. Her attire was what some deem “hobo chic” – a mish-mash of older, not quite “vintage” clothing, disheveled, and not so much looking dirty as worn. At the moment, Delirium clad herself in a mid-calf length beige knit sweater which draped over her fishnet unitard and yellow and purple diamond-patterned skirt. She was also barefoot and oblivious to the chill in the air. One of Delirium’s more striking features, however, were her eyes that glinted like jewels – they shone as a pale emerald and sapphire in her right and left eye respectively. The other striking feature was her speech.

“Oh no! It’s sprinkling brown.” said Delirium. “Sometimes I wish it would sprinkle other colors like red or green or clear or butterflies or fish because that would be fun and I would be happy. Wouldn’t that make you happy?” she said to Kat. Taken aback, the only reply Kat could muster was a few blinks. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She opened her mouth once more.

“I’m so sorry I spilled coffee on you, I didn’t see you there.” said Kat finally as she hunted for a napkin or anything that would blot the caffeinated wetness that was now hunkering down in Delirium’s clothing. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” said Kat. She worriedly scanned the market for a place to sit down and better assess if she had given the young woman a concussion. Marshall, who had been off picking up an item he found interesting, had finally returned and was right behind Kat to witness the event unfolding but was unable to articulate a warning fast enough to avert the collision. In fact, it was lucky that he was able to avoid adding his own mass to the incident. Recognizing Kat’s furtive glances, he guided them to a bench just on the fringe of all the market vendors.

“Here we go”, said Marshall, “is there anything we can do for you? Something we can get you or someone we could call?”

“It’s okay, I’m right as rain. Right as rain. Right as rain! What does that mean, right as rain? Are there times when rain is wrong?” said Delirium. “No! How can rain be wrong when it feeds the little plants and gives homes to the little fishies? Rain can’t be wrong. It can’t be! Sometimes I forget things.”

Kat and Marshall gave each other a look of extreme concern.

Delirium, finally getting a good look at Marshall, said “Hey, I know you! You’re the charming man. The CHARMING man! The cee aych ay arr, um, emm, um, eye enn gee man! Can you help me find my doggie? He was here. And then he wasn’t. I really miss him and that makes me sad.”

Bewildered, Marshall said, “Uh, sure. What’s your doggie’s name and what does he look like? While we’re on the topic, what’s your name?”

Delirium giggled. “My name is Dee ee”, she said before her attention was broken. “There he is! Wait, is that him? His name is Barny something and I miss him and he misses me. Sometimes I forget things. I think that’s him!” With that, she quickly stood and bounded off into the crowd.

Kat and Marshall scrambled after Delirium. Although she was petite and the crowd was thick, surely the two of them could catch up to this unmistakable young woman and get her the medical attention she so clearly needed. After thirty minutes of searching, they gave up the hunt and returned to each other. Marshall began, “Well that” and Kat finished “was weird.” They laughed and headed for the car.

Other than the gentle clatter of their purchases in the back seat, the ride back to Marshall’s was quiet. Kat ran her left hand through Marshall’s hair as he relaxed to her touch and placed his right hand on her leg to give her a light massage. Magnetism. Kat finally broke the silence. “How do you know Dee?” she said. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy or accusation in her voice, just simple curiosity.

Marshall scanned his memory for a moment before simply stating, “I don’t. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“But she said you were the charming man. She was quite emphatic as though you’d known each other a long time”, Kat said, “Are you sure you’ve never met her? Perhaps in passing? Maybe you helped her out of a jam at one time? She seems like the type who might find herself in some precarious position from time to time.”

“Nope”, said Marshall, “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out that very same thing and I’m coming up blank. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget someone who dressed or spoke like Dee, do you?”

“Good point, Mr. Jackson”, said Kat as she chuckled and smiled a big, goofy smile. For some inexplicable reason, addressing him so formally pleased something within her fiercely. With that, not another word was spoken the remainder of the trip. Lost in their own thoughts, they were contented to soak in the sounds of the road, skin on fabric, and fingernails across a scalp.

Arriving back at the ranch-style house, Marshall parked his car in the two car garage. After turning off the ignition, he sped to the other side of the car to open Kat’s door. She appreciated the little gestures more than anything. In fact, when it came to the little things, they were both of the same opinion. People often make grand sweeping gestures only when they are in trouble or want to cover their actions for awhile. The little things mean more, show more consideration for the other person. They grabbed the bags from the back seat and headed inside.

Once inside the kitchen, a realization struck them that, in the wake of their interaction with Delirium, they had no idea what the other had bought. Kat, with child-like glee, opened her bag first and produced a number of picture frames of varying sizes and colors. The only similarity all the frames shared was the ornate detail hand-carved along the edges. It was often quite intricate detail and showed a high level of craftsmanship. Next, Marshall produced a small bag and from within it came two pieces. It was two halves of a small crystal tiger that had been split from front to back diagonally at the center. Since it was broken, Marshall had paid a pittance figuring he could glue it back together. Like so many things, he didn’t care if wasn’t perfect, he liked it. Kat was taken with the crystal tiger’s simple beauty and said, “Where is that little guy going?”

Marshall said, “I have a menagerie of sorts in my office down the hall. He’ll go with the other animals in there.”

“Oh, I only caught a glimpse of your office when we left this morning. Mind showing it to me?” Kat said.

“Sure, come on.” said Marshall as he grabbed her hand and led her down to the office. He opened the door fully and ushered Kat inside.

“Wow”, said Kat as she took in the contents of the room. Her thoughts of an eclectic style earlier that day didn’t come close to describing this office. Amongst the standard modern technical trappings were a collection of animals, plants, and objets d’art spanning multiple cultures. Other than the modern items, nothing in this office matched anything else. Kat scanned the room and noted: a jade cricket, a pair of quartz dolphin bookends, an obsidian scarab hanging on the wall, a marble ladybug and dragonfly, a porcelain elephant, a glass-blown pig, a turquoise tortoise, a small ruby bat, a painted dragon on a wooden pedestal which faced away from the door and window, a bust of Buddha, a necklace with a St. Christopher medallion, a necklace with a clockwise swastika, a red Chinese lantern, a dream catcher, and a horseshoe. Most of the animals were placed in a makeshift bamboo jungle she noted.

“How did you come by all of this? What made you decide on these specific pieces?” she said. Her curiosity was most assuredly piqued.

“I wish I could tell you an extravagant tale about how they each came into my possession,” he said, “but the honest truth is they just called to me. Each time I saw one of the pieces, something inside me compelled me to pick them up. Even if I had something else in my hand, invariably I would find one of these pieces and pay for it instead.”

“Well it may not be extravagant, but it certainly is puzzling how they managed to pull your attention away from other items”, said Kat, “It’s kind of eerie. Kind of cool. Interesting arrangement.”

Marshall chuckled, smiled, and said, “If you say so. It just seemed natural to me that the animals would be in a jungle or forest, you know? The animals wouldn’t adhere to their normal predatory or territorial instincts, they’d get along peacefully here. Sure, they might growl at each other, but they wouldn’t attack.” Marshall grabbed the front half of the crystal tiger and walked it through the bamboo growling at the other animals. A growling returned that surprised him. He quizzically looked up at Kat and realized it was her stomach that had returned his call of the wild. She sheepishly grinned at him.

“Would you mind helping me glue the tiger together before we make dinner? I have trouble keeping the pieces together and getting the excess glue removed sometimes.” Marshall said.

“I will absolutely help you.” Kat said. The crystal tiger was then glued and cleaned up in no time and they headed off to the kitchen hand-in-hand never noticing the soft hum now emanating from the office. They were so distracted by each other during dinner – a bottle of wine and sharing stories of their past – that they didn’t hear that hum slowly growing louder. As the night wound to a close, they kissed goodbye passionately as Marshall held open the door to Kat’s car. Marshall returned inside as Kat headed home. They were certain this was their best weekend to date and still the hum grew louder. After cleaning up the last remnants from the weekend, Marshall headed to his bedroom where he undressed, donned a t-shirt and shorts, and laid down with the largest smile upon his face. Had he been paying attention, he would certainly have investigated the growing chaos emanating from his office. Had he gone to his office, he would have witnessed an unearthly green, crackling glow that accompanied the eerie hum as it slowly fused each end of the crystal tiger working its way to the center. With thoughts of Kat on his mind, he missed those points coming together in the center for one final flash which released an enormous energy bubble that shot out faster than any wave from a nuclear bomb.

Yeah, some people are just lucky that way.

(Again thank you, Neil, for your inspiration)

Marshall Jackson stood before the wan, lanky Dream Lord; head in his hands, attempting the seemingly impossible – making sense of all that had just played out before him. Scattered about Morpheus stood the remainder of his family, The Endless: Death, Delirium (nee Delight), Desire, Despair, Destiny, and even Destruction. With the exception of Destiny, who silently clutched his book, and Destruction, who long ago abandoned his post and now merely guffawed, each discussed their role in the events that had just unfolded or their role-to-come.

“What… was… that?!” muttered Marshall through his spread and shaking hands as they travelled from his bewildered, freckled face on their journey up and over his forehead into his flaxen hair. “Would someone kindly tell me what the hell just happened here?” he pleaded.

The Dream Lord, enwrapped in his ebon mantle, inky serpentine hair waving like the Monastery kelp forest, stared down at the incredulous man standing before him. Poised on the periphery of his province, he paused before speaking deeply, darkly in a voice that hung in the ether as stars on the blackest night. “Explanation is not a duty which falls unto my hands.”, stated Morpheus plainly before continuing, “That is a task which must fall upon you alone.” With these words, Marshall’s mind retreated back to the beginning, before his time in The Dreaming.

Marshall Jackson once enjoyed the comforts of easy-living. Growing up, everything just seemed to come to him naturally. He wasn’t particularly gifted in the areas of allure or acumen – he stood six feet three inches tall with a certain je ne sais quoi and was able to hold his own in conversations which might dip just below surface level depth. He wasn’t overly athletic or accepting socially – he was gifted enough physically to get through intramural-type sports without embarrassment and he was more likely to utter something politically incorrect, but always with jovial, good-natured intent. His job had been handed down to him through his family and, while it initially paid well enough to suit his simple needs, it required very little as far thought process or hard labor. He possessed enough in all areas to ensure that he would never be lonely unless that was a path he specifically chose to plod. No, what Marshall possessed in great abundance was good fortune. He was always in the right place at the right time. Eerily so. He had become so accustomed to this way of life that he was left completely dumbfounded when it all turned around on him without warning.

Bleary-eyed, Marshall stood quietly hunched in front of the mirror in the master bathroom with his hands on the cold counter, arms locked, elbows protruding slightly forward. He stared down transfixed by the sink filling quickly with steaming water. Stubble dotting his face, a wry smile draped from one cheek to the other like Christmas garland as he turned his head to take in the soft, angelic face of the woman still asleep in his four-poster bed. Her name was Kat Dalavis and she had reluctantly accepted his invitation to spend the weekend with him despite her initial misgivings.

She had barely known Marshall although they had crossed paths many times while running through one of the local parks. Furtive smiles and nervous conversation was the the theme when they finally broke the ice to formally introduce themselves after a sweaty, three mile run. Neither one was particularly smooth when it came to matters with the opposite sex, so subsequent flirting was often awkward but also entertaining to them both as the weeks passed. The sparks between them could neither be ignored nor denied. Marshall promised Kat a weekend full of art galleries, scary movies, sipping coffee and people watching at sidewalk cafes, a home-cooked meal, and the behavior of a perfect gentleman.

He had provided all that and more for her so far over the weekend. Laughter. Engaging conversation. Sight-seeing about town. Since they lived far enough apart that late-night travel was ill-advised, he had offered her the comforts of his bed while he took the somewhat run-down couch – a perfect gentleman – for two nights. These were the least sleep-filled nights of his entire existence as thoughts of Kat ricocheted around his conscious and subconscious. What would tomorrow bring? What would the future bring?

“A perfect gentleman? In this day and age? Really?” came the honey-drenched voice from behind him.

Releasing a muffled “What the?!”, Marshall whipped his head back to see Desire in the mirror standing behind him. Desire, unlike his/her twin sister Despair, is a conundrum when appearing before humanity as he/she can appear as either male or female as the situation arises. In the mind of Desire, all are slaves to him/her and not the other way around. Spinning to face her, he was fumbling to find a stream of expletives to release when her smile disarmed him. Desire, dressed to the nines, captured Marshall’s rapt attention within the trinity of her amber eyes and ruby lips.

Slowly turning Marshall to face Kat, Desire whispered luxuriantly into his ear, “Look at her, the subtle crookedness of her nose, the way her hair cascades across her face, the delicious toothy smile, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the full roundness of her breasts heaving, her milky complexion… sure, she wants a perfect gentleman, she enjoys the inherent strength of her femininity as well as the chivalry of being treated like a lady. But she doesn’t want a perfect gentleman. She wants you. Exploring her. Claiming her. Conquering her. Consuming her.”

“She does?” he questioned before boldly declaring, “She does!”

With that singularly stark realization, he roused her from her slumber and kissed her deeply, taking her as she had been imagining, hoping, since the moment they had met. Satisfied, her work complete, Desire slowly faded from this plane of existence back to her own gallery as a smile spread ever wider across her face. The last of her thoughts slowly echoed in her wake, “I’m Desire, I make things want things.”

(Thank you, Neil, for your inspiration)

Steve lay awake with jangled nerves in anticipation for the day about to unfold. His body temperature climbed and plummeted like Kingda Ka as he fitfully tossed and turned – each hour grinding by slower than the previous one. Each muscle tensed until it shook noticeably then eventually released in exhaustion. His mind whirled like a psychotic Scrambler. Sleep was not about to overtake him this night, at least not anytime soon. What would tomorrow bring? His mind flashed back months earlier.

He had met Tracy months before and, thanks to similar tastes, interests, and viewpoints, they became friends quickly and easily. The catch, as there always seems to be, is that they lived far apart. Regardless, their friendship grew over the months that rolled by as they communicated any way possible when schedules allowed – email, instant messages, and even via the requisite social networking methods that have become the standard modus operandi. With each missive, the seed of attraction that had been planted when they first met began to grow and bloom deep within Steve. Is it possible Tracy felt the same? Steve’s overly-analytical mind worked overtime to Sherlock Holmes his way through Tracy’s replies as the year wound to a close.

The holidays arrived with each of them spending time with their respective families while still trying to maintain their increasing level of communication. Even as important as family is to both of them, every couple hours Steve found himself drawn back to the computer in hopes of finding Tracy online. He was falling. Hard. If only he had some inkling of reciprocation, he could truly allow himself that luxury rather than playing everything close to the vest. He couldn’t be faulted for this cautious approach considering he’d not allowed himself to open up to another woman in a broken mirror’s age – not since the scarlet siren Charlie Brown’d him. This time would be different he convinced himself – of all the Charlie Brown’s in the world, Steve was, after all, the Charlie Browniest. He had to know without tipping his hand and in true nerdy fashion sent Tracy a virtual kiss on New Year’s Eve. He constantly had to remind himself that although it was a “girls night out” she would likely find someone at the stroke of midnight to kiss or anything else to keep himself from getting his hopes too high. Early New Year’s Day brought a reply he was simultaneously dreading and excitedly anticipating. Reading the email sent him soaring as the virtual kiss was the only kiss she received and it moved her so very much (never being kissed at midnight can have that effect) that she returned the virtual kiss. He was hooked, without realizing, head over heels. There was still doubt, but Steve could no more help himself than stop breathing.

As January melted into February, panic set into Steve’s mind. Events were progressing nicely and they were connecting on a more personal level, but still she had yet to declare anything to him. Sure there was a text saying, “I heart you”, but what exactly did that mean? Surely if there was more behind that, she would have used “love” instead of “heart” right? Once again, he cautioned himself not to read too much into it. Valentine’s Day was rapidly approaching and his panic grew. What to do on this most ridiculously corporate of all “holidays”? Should he send flowers? Roses? Would that give too much away? What if she didn’t think the same of him? Would it scare her off? What if they were another color besides red? No, that’s no good. Another type of flower? Hm, his over-analyzing mind quickly informed him this was a land mine best side-stepped. He conceded to wait until her upcoming birthday to send flowers – less potential fallout that way. Instead, a funny eCard with a follow up text message would have to suffice for the time being since things seemed still to be mired in the realm of friendship with nary a clue of romantic interest. Both being computer savvy, the awkward nerdy flirting then flowed like alcohol at an open bar. Surely, he could glean something from flirting, right?

Tracy had become increasingly frustrated that their situation hadn’t progressed beyond friendship and slyly let it slip into an IM conversatsion. In her mind, she had been sending out signals since the beginning of the year. Why wasn’t he picking up on them? She even went so far as to chide him that he was acting like a typical guy and needed to pick up clues better. There was only one problem with her assertion that she eventually admitted when he corrected her from reviewing emails, IM’s, and texts to him. There wasn’t really any flirting in her messages, the things she thought she conveyed happened in the pesky internal conversations in her own head. Eureka! A break-through! Attraction was mutual and that would springboard to bigger and better conversations and emotions. The “getting to know the real you” stage was dizzying to say the least as each one slowly opened up, exposing more of their inner selves to the other. With that, the question of the nature of attraction arose. What exactly was the appeal? What indeed.

Tracy, as Steve would learn over the following months, was everything he had been searching for his entire life. She was beautiful beyond mere physical manifestation, although to him she was alluring in that sense as well. He didn’t care that her features weren’t flawless, her beauty had character and uniqueness – it made her all the more attractive. It was the combination of her intellect, her sharp wit, her compassion, her expansive imagination, her passion, her love of family, and so much more that drew him to her. He loved who he was mirrored through her. She inspired him, showed him his potential, inspired him to strive for and attain heights he never dared dream of in all his past. Before Tracy, he detached himself from the rest of the world. He was merely going through the motions – a stained shell of his former glory travelling with no direction, no purpose. She was his human credential. She reconnected him to the world around and he was never better for it. Mutual attraction on every level.

Sadly, one evening brought a misunderstanding which threatened to put a halt to everything before Steve had a chance to confess all that he had kept close to his own heart and mind. Eventually, calmer heads prevailed after a phone call was placed to lay everything on the line. Still, in the moment, he hadn’t the slightest idea about what the future held for them, let alone himself. Would she feel the same? It wouldn’t matter as he realized he had to be completely forthcoming and let the chips fall where they may. Could he do it? Could he utter those three words that had been clawing to get out of him for so long? The voice mail made it both easier and more difficult as he brought himself to detail what he had kept unsaid – I love you – then hung up. It was out there and he couldn’t take it back even if he wanted. Fortune favors the brave? Perhaps, but humiliation favors the foolish. Minutes seemed as hours before her text returned to him asking if he truly meant it. His reply to her, “avec chaque fibre de mon être”. A flurry of email and texts finally finished with a call from Tracy admitting, “I love you too”. Steve could breathe easier than he had the previous 24 hours.

What followed was the systematic removal of the remaining walls that still lingered between them from their past relationships. While the going was slow and walls often times were re-erected, they finally gave way to a solid foundation on which they would build their future – a veritable This Old House for the heart and soul. Each day brought a better understanding, a deeper trust, a stronger love. Certainly there were obstacles that would arise and they comforted themselves in the knowledge that they never had to fight about things, a discussion could clear away all. They merely needed to remain open and honest with each other and the rest would simply sort itself out – that was the key. The day when they would finally be together – when all they wanted, all they needed was to be each other’s embrace – was quickly approaching. Then delayed. Then gaining momentum as it approached again. Anxiety and doubt crept into both of their heads as more and more obstacles presented themselves. It would all be worth it in the end they would repeat to each other late at night while making the time to bridge the distance and connect on the deepest levels.

Steve flashed back to the present as he wondered if he would ever find rest this night. Tracy was dealing with her own sleeplessness as well as more aggravating details. Her own fears and anxieties gripped her tightly to ensure that her mind wouldn’t turn off. Her flight was so early the next morning that it made no sense to even try to sleep at that point. She made her way to the airport and boarded the plane which would take her into the arms she’d longed to be in for so many months. Steve awakened from the hour or so of sleep he managed and began to make the last minute preparations for Tracy’s arrival. The text arrived informing that she was on the plane and awaiting take-off. A short while later another arrived as her layover was at an end and the boarding process was renewed. It wouldn’t be long now, the agony of waiting would soon be at an end. Neither could wait.

Steve left very early that afternoon to finish the last important tasks before heading to the airport. He desired as much as anything to surprise her at the gate. Arriving at the airport, he found a spot which would allow for easy access and a quick departure – the less time wasted in the parking lot, the better. Positioning himself along the glass outside the gate area, he wanted to ensure his face was one of the first Tracy saw as she deplaned. Scanning the arrival board, her flight was listed as on time even though his watch read ten minutes past their arrival time. Time crawled as he continued to wait until a voice rang out through the terminal that her flight had finally landed. Time crawled again as the plane taxied to the gate. The first frustrated text reached his phone as her trip was marked by the loud, obnoxious, know-it-alls in the seats behind her. His heart quickened. Fidgeting, he realized he had been sweating and now a cold shiver overtook him. Anticipation was driving him crazy, anticipation was making him wait. More texts arrived as she was just as anxious to get off the flight that never seemed to end. Finally, the doors to the gate opened and passengers began filing up and through. Was that her? No. Was that her? No! “There she is!”, he said to himself, “Wait, where is she going?”. It was then her text notifying him that a restroom was required arrived. Ok, fine, just a few minutes more.

He positioned himself away from the glass and the remaining people so she could better see him when she finally left the gate. She walked out and scanned the crowd until her eyes fell upon him holding up roses and a sign which simply read “Welcome Home”. Tension and anxiety melted from her face replaced by the sweetest smile. She was more beautiful than he remembered and each step brought her closer to him, to fulfilling their hopes for the future. Taking the roses and sign from his hands, she laughed and thanked him for the thoughtful gifts before setting everything at her feet. Hands now empty, they wound their arms around each other and pressed tightly together for the kiss they had been desiring lo’ these many months. His hands settled in the small of her back as hers rested on his shoulders at the base of his neck. This kiss would only serve as the harbinger of the intimacy to come. Neither one was interested in performing a show for the unworthy remaining in the terminal, so the kiss was ended before a trite “get a room” cry could be uttered. As they broke the kiss and embraced instead, both Steve and Tracy could hear an audible click as their lives just fell into place with an ease that startled them both. They were finally together. Everything in the world made sense. Everything fit. Everything clicked and locked into place as they left the airport to begin their lives together.

Her eyes flutter open and she groggily stares at the blurred white of her bedroom ceiling. Her subconscious resumes the horse race it abandoned little more than an hour ago when she finally drifted off into the lightest of slumber. Anxiety, Nervousness, and Fear, already mounted on their thoroughbreds, are whipping them into a frenzy as they jockey for position far ahead of the rest of the riders. Who will win this day?

Reaching to her side, she fumbles for her glasses on the bedside table. Blindness will not be joining this race. Sluggishly sliding her glasses into place, she notices the clock illuminating fifteen minutes before the alarm was set. She sighs and mutters to herself, “That figures”. Fifteen minutes will offer no reprieve so she switches off the alarm and reluctantly rises, shuffling off to the bathroom. Turning the stainless steel shower nozzle to as hot as she knows she can handle, she slowly slides her clothing across her silky skin to rest upon the floor. She can hear the hoofbeats as the horses in her head round the first corner.

Stepping into the steamy stream, the horses falter to the recesses of her mind. Fortunately, they’re not mudders. Focus shifts to the slight tension released as the heated water drums against her skin. The mundaneness of the lather, rinse, repeat is all she need concern herself with in this moment. Her hands glide the soap across all the necessary surfaces as she snaps into sense memory. Memories of a time with other hands, other fragrances, other surfaces, and other stresses relieved. She allows her lips to form an easy smile. The shock of rapidly cooling water rips her from her reverie. Turning off the water, she steps out and grabs the waiting towel. As she proceeds into her routine, the horsemen return, rounding another corner.

Blotting her damp dermis brings the jockeys and their mounts to the forefront of her conscious mind. Sliding on her jeans and two tank tops brings Anxiety ahead. Applying makeup causes Nervousness to take the lead. Fixing her hair, Fear bounds to the front. They are all vying for position as she tries to will them away by focusing on gathering all the necessary items to get through her day. After triple-checking that all necessities are neatly tucked into her pack, she makes her way to the car and guides it against the throng of slow-moving elderly and speed-obsessed youth.

Finally nearing her destination, the oft-futile search for convenient parking begins and the horses hit the home stretch. Although today she was afforded an earlier start than usual, she furrows her brow as she is forced further away from the hallowed halls of higher education. She parks her vehicle and begins the trek across campus. The three horsemen tie in a photo finish today, but with each passing day they lose ground until they are eventually overtaken by the horsemen of Assurance, Calm, and Courage. You see, today begins her final year of undergraduate coursework. A bright future awaits her just beyond the finish line – new learning opportunities, new job prospects, a new location, a new life.

Today is the beginning of the end.

At least in this time of unemployment, I’ve been able to get some writing done. Enjoy (or don’t, I’m not here to tell you what to do – Corey Rittmaster) this snippet!

I am a man who finally “gets it”.
I am a man whose family is very important to him, but places one person above all others.
I am a man who doesn’t care what others think of him, but holds one person’s opinion with the utmost respect.
I am a man who understands the simpler things in life are only truly enjoyable when shared with one person.
I am a man who believes passion is the imagination and purpose that encompasses and propels your creativity.
I am a man who can’t wait to become a member of the 5:01 Club and The Lost Weekenders Club because of the inherent promise given them.

There is something dreadfully wrong within the sphere of individuals I call friends – something that threatens to tear the fabric of reality and unravel all that we know. Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Sometime around the dawning of the new millenium there existed a secret society – a cadre of well-armored soldiers fighting a force that threatened all mankind. This force has been in existence for ages untold and slowly, over time, has managed to coalesce into an inky, ethereal, poisonous haze. This haze is undetectable to the naked eye. Only its effects can be seen, however, by that time it is too late. Not until completely under the thrall of the enemy will you know its true face.

The haze steals free will.
The haze weakens flesh.
The haze rips out and re-gifts hearts.
The haze renders rational thought moot.

The secret society had, however, always managed to bear the bright blaze of truth to beat back the haze. Strengthened by numbers seemingly too great to ever fall before the haze, the secret society survived. The secret society thrived. Even if a soldier would succumb to the damages of the haze, another soldier was always ready to replace him. As is the case in stress-infused situations, tight-knit units form and band together. Within the unit, one implicit fact emerges – “I’ve got your back”.

I am a soldier in the secret society and this is my call to arms. Within my unit, we have suffered heavy casualties as the haze has recruited its own comrade, gaining in strength to an exponential degree. In the past, this had always been treated as a myth; it was an urban legend told to small children to ensure that their vegetables were eaten. Between adults, it was always uttered in hushed whispers lest voicing it aloud would somehow give it reinforcement. We now know the horrible truth. The haze has been strengthened by time.

Time, the great equalizer. Time wears the greatest mountains down. We are merely men. What hope have we against the ravages of time? From my vantage point, I can see the haze and time as they have begun to encircle my brethren. Threatening imminent ingestion, excreting shells of their former glory. My squadron is all but decimated. There are precious few of us left to take up the mantle of battle. Reinforcements have yet to arrive. Without realizing it, we have become surrounded. Two more are about to fall. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon the haze will claim them – picking them off as any carrion would from amongst the bloody remains upon a highway.

In some twisted way, I envy those poor bastards. Would it be so bad to simply allow oblivion to whisk me away? Would I be less of a man in the eyes of those that remain were I to embrace the sickly sweet caress of the haze? I am suddenly ripped from my reverie by an astonishing realization. The haze has become careless and I have seen the face of my enemy as it claims yet another soldier – Marriage!

In this singularly simple point of clarity, I am undone. I pray for sweet release.