#3 from The 3 A.M. Epiphany by Brian Kiteley |
I don't really care for this result and I don't know if I actually made the third person unreliable or just unfolded deception. Let me know. They met on the bus, the five-fifteen that she rode every day from work to her lonely apartment on State Street. The first thing he noticed about Eva was that she was blonde. He had always liked blondes. The first thing she noticed about Samuel was that he reminded her of an old lover. She, therefore, avoided all eye contact. It had been a bad breakup, her and that memorable lover. Her mother had always told her never to make a relationship with a man on the bus. “You want a man with a car,” she would tell her. Samuel sat beside her as the sky darkened and started up a conversation. He was a lawyer. She liked that. With a light laugh she made him realize that he had good reason to be attracted to blondes. They talked easily and as they neared her stop, she boldly asked him to go for coffee at the little shop at the corner. He accepted and even stood and pulled the cord for her. Demurely, she walked beside him, suddenly shy, as they made their way to the coffee shop. She twisted a strand of fine blonde hair around a slender finger and chewed on her bottom lip. He wanted to kiss her but waited until the coffee was gone to lean over the table and lightly capture his lips with his own. He noted that she tasted like honey. They stood on the sidewalk, her back pressed against the brick wall of her building as their kissing grew deeper, hungrier. Breathlessly, she invited him up. Wordlessly, he accepted. Their passion in the bed was manic, her need pressing, forceful. He made sure to instigate continuous touches, using up every moment with her, in the small apartment upon the creaky bed. Samuel confessed a deep love that bordered on obsession, saying that nothing would separate them, that he would care for her, provide for her and she would never go hungry…for either food or him. She wrapped him in her arms and nibbled on his earlobe. The soft streetlight shone into the room as Eva slept in Samuels arms. Sleepily and contentedly, he slid from the bed and dressed. It was then that he noted subtle things his passion had blinded him to before. There was no furniture in the small room except the bed. There were no boxes or any indication that she was moving in and had yet to unpack. A cold certainty crept over him. He watched her sleeping in the soft light and leaned over her. Something about the slumbering form reminded him of obligations, of his wife and kids at home waiting for him, of his wedding ring in his pocket. She opened her blue eyes and smiled, “Gotcha,” she said and he recalled that Jane, his wife, had a sister named Eva. In a vivid moment of tilting reality, he realized that his cheating had finally caught up with him and now he would lose everything. WORD COUNT: 500 |