Sister
by Katlynne E. Grey
IT WAS COLD. Cold and dry. It brought her mind back to her work. As she sat chewing on her pencil, she crossed her legs. She let her right foot swing, creating a rhythm and drowning the beat into her mind. She noticed a slight tingle down her leg. It was going numb. Love was like that, she thought. A tingle and then numbness. Perhaps that’s why she swung her foot. Perhaps that was why she did a lot of things. Just like a roller coaster. A slight burst of energy, a sensual, vomiting feeling. But right before you see your lunch the ride’s over.
She didn’t think too much. Thinking made you realize possibilities—or potential hazards.
Somewhere in the distance a church bell rang. The music was pleasing to hear. But then it was cold. Cold and dry. Weather had a lot to do with it. And sometimes nothing at all. Sort of like watching a dust ball floating through the air and seeing it land. Sometimes though, it didn’t land. It just seemed to disappear into the air. It made her conscious of her environment.
She did as she always did after going home. She sat in the little diner. A quaint joint where she watched and was watched. Dressed in a figure-flattering outfit. You know the dress, with the pretty floral print that brought out her eyes. And the length hiding a beauty that was often recognized. Her hair fell in soft cascades of light. She knew she could be what she wanted to be. But then, so did a lot of people.
Sipping down her second to last mouthful of coffee, she extinguished a long cigarette. Through the light puff of smoke she locked eyes with a stranger. She stood up to leave, placing a five-dollar bill on the table with odd change. She picked up her worn coat, folding it in her arms to conceal a small tear.
He followed her. They always did. She turned left down an alleyway and went up a flight of stairs. She counted as she always did. One, two, three—all the way up to ten. She reached into her coat pocket and proudly displayed a key. As she turned the lock she turned to him. She had a simple tone. It was a simple statement which required nothing more. He would want a lot.
As they entered her flat above the street, a light went out.
He was trying to be romantic. She sensed that. He took her left hand and told her she was beautiful. She smiled at that. Not so much because she felt it but because that’s what he wanted. He kissed her cheek softly. Almost as gentle as a mother kissing her baby. His lips moved to her neck and he slipped an arm around her. A click clicking of a clock somewhere directed them into a small room. Her zipper unfastened and she could tell he was strong. His legs were firm.
It was cold. Cold and dry. ♦