#23 - Impossible to Love

She could feel his nervousness as they sat and waited. She looked to him to see his fingers busily drumming themselves upon the large table that spanned out before them.

“Hey, it's going to be all right,” she reassured him while resting her hand upon his twitching one. His gaze met hers accompanied with a hint of a smile.

“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh, “I'm just no good at these kinds of things.”

“You'll be fine,” she continued, now stroking at his arm, “They won't bite your head off. I promise.”

His smile widened, followed by a row of silvery teeth. The drumming fingers stopped.

The minutes droned on. As boredom took hold, they both began lazily scanning the room with uninterested gazes. A single woman, clad in white and wearing a large apron, was busying herself with the handling of large platters and trays of food. She looked weary.

A man was standing idly beside a cash register at the opposite end of the room, his attention drawn to a particular spot upon his left hand.

“Hi, Taylor,” came a familiar voice to the woman's left.

She turned her attention to see two older people staring back at her, causing her heart to leap and simultaneously tighten her hold upon the man next to her.

“Hi!” she replied while standing and hugging each of them individually.

She felt no return in the gesture, but ignored it. She sat back in the seat as they each took a chair opposite the table.

“What is this about, dear?” the older woman said, a smile hanging from her face as if placed there from outside influences.

“Mom, Dad,” the woman said while looking to the man next to her, “I'd like you to meet someone.”

I looked to him. He was smiling back at them meekly.

“This is Brice,” I said while gesturing toward him, “We are going to get married-”

“I already said that enough was enough of this shit!” the older man suddenly shouted.

“Richard, sit down!” the mother seethed while pulling upon his wrist.

Taylor looked to Brice to see his face decorated with a thick layer of fear. His skin was ghostly white, a thin sheen of sweat hung from his brow.

“Honey,” her mother cooed to her to catch her attention.

She turned back to face her, a look of supreme hurt upon her face.

“We've already been through this a hundred times.”

“You never accept who I am!” Taylor shouted with equal volume to both of her parents.

The area around them was already silent; she could feel eyes upon every inch of her back.

“This is not who you are, Taylor!” her dad shouted in response, “This is not the daughter I raised.”

“If you hate me so much, why don't you just come out and say it-”

“Why do we always have to bring these episodes out in public?” her mother said with labored tone.

“There's no one next you to, Taylor,” came the voice of her dad, “No one is sitting at the table.”

Her head whipped to the seat beside her. Brice was gone.

“He probably left after the way he was treated!” she said with indignation, “You would leave too.”

Her father sighed.

“There was never anyone in that seat, Taylor,” he said to her, his voice barely above a whisper, “This is the final straw.”

“I love him!” she screamed as she stood and shoved at her father, “Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“We let it go on too long,” her mother said, her head in her hands, “I let it go on-”

“I need to go look for him,” Taylor said with tears in her eyes, “I hate both of you.”

She ran from them, toward the exit. She heard her father call after her, but she ignored his angered wail. The cool air struck her wet face as she emerged onto the parking lot. She squinted through the darkness to see any signs of Brice.

Why did they always run away?

#22 - Lunch With the End of the World

I even remember the sandwich I was eating; turkey on rye with extra horseradish. It was my lunch break, and I sat in the back of a sandwich shop while allowing my aching feet to rest. That was when he walked in. I didn't take any notice of him until I realized that he was walking in my direction. He was a tall man with a trim goatee and large eyes. His black hair was combed back neatly in line with the gray colored suit that he wore. I lowered my gaze to a current text I had been reading upon my cell phone, pretending not to notice that the man was now standing directly in front of me. I let out a silent sigh while pushing back hair from my face and hooking it around an ear.

“Can I help you, sir?”

I tried to be polite, but my irritation at this person interrupting my allotted relaxing time showed through. He merely grinned at my response, his face instantly aging with wrinkles.

“May I have a seat here?” he replied with a jovial manner.

I merely stared at him with a mixture of irritation and disbelief.

“Um, why do you want to sit here?” I answered back, “There's plenty of other empty seats. You can take this if you want.”

I gestured to the open chair across from me. The man sighed, but didn't lose that captivating smile.

“I thought you'd be interested to know that,” he stated while sitting in the empty space and placing his elbows upon the small table, “The world is going to end.”

“Excuse me?” I answered back, the half-eaten sandwich cradled between my hands forgotten.

“Well, not tomorrow, mind you,” he went on to say while settling himself within his seat, “About twenty years to the day, actually.”

I placed the food upon the large plastic wrapping it was served in. I messaged my temples while looking to my watch, taking note of my very short break.

“Your name is Katherine Vaughn. You currently work at a dead end job with no hope for promotion. You are single, dated two times. Your favorite food is Italian.”

My mouth hung open at the grinning man, scarcely believing my ears.

“I needed to pry a bit to get some leverage for you to believe me,” he stated, “Did it work?”

“You can't be for real-”

“Please, you need to listen to me,” the man muttered, his long-standing grin swiftly dispelled, “I can only tell you this.”

“Me?” I asked, “Why do I need to know such a thing?”

“There will be a new president appointed in the year 2016,” the man went on to say, now excessively seriously, “You will be in politics then. I can't remember which position.”

I blinked several times, the scenery around the two of us appearing to slow to a painful degree.

“Politics?” I managed to stammer at the gravity of this man's statements.

“Yes,” came his strict reply, “And you will be the one person who will have the power to stop what happens next. All I can say is that watch for what happens at that time. You will know what to do.”

He stood, startling me somewhat. I immediately jumped to my feet at seeing him turn from me.

“What a goddamn second!” I called out, grabbing at his arm, “Who the hell do you think you are that you can say these things to me and expect me to believe you? I am just a crappy cashier at a crappy grocery store!”

He turned back to face me, his kind eyes lit with a persecuting flame. He grabbed at my shoulders suddenly.

“I cannot stay any longer before they find out I'm gone!” he said, those eyes burrowing into my own, “I don't know much else about it than you do! Just rise up! Others need to fight alongside you!”

He was yelling the final words, causing the area to silence. I felt eyes upon my collar.

“Goodbye, Katherine,” he said while taking a step away from me, “You will know what to do when you come to it.”

He left instantly. I watched the faces upon me for a few moments before my eyes went back to my watch. Time to go back to work.

#21 - Change

For years he had been waiting for this. The light jingling of a bell signaled his entrance into the small, dark clothing shop. A spidery old woman with sunken eyes met his gaze.

“Anton?” she murmured in a tired, wispy voice, “Is that you? I told you, I ain't giving you any more-”

I held out my hand to stop her, opening my remaining palm to flash a tight wad of money. Her face instantly morphed into one of false delight and wonder.

“So, you finally decided to buy something useful,” she stated with a small quiver of a laugh, “And here I thought you were going to stay the way you were forever.”

His mind flashed back to a particularly cold night. He lay upon the unforgiving concrete of the city floor, his body wracked with spasms of cold and withdraw. People walked past his shuddering body, some hastening their pace as they witnessed him.

“Could I take a look at your jeans?” he replied, blinking back the memory and stuffing it back into his skull, “And a T-shirt. White is fine.”

The old woman sprang into action at Anton's orders. She wordlessly gestured for him to follow her as she disappeared behind several clothing racks.

“You don't even smell anymore,” she said gruffly sometime later.

Despite the woman's harsh nature, Anton laughed. He was through with people like her.

“I guess I'm just ready for a change,” she responded with similar tone.

He remembered the look of shock upon the hotel clerk's face when he was able to slap enough money upon the counter for one night's stay. The shower was the best part. Layers of grime fell from his body the moment water touched his skin.

“Years of panhandling I assume?” she went on to say, shaking him from his thoughts, “More than I can say about most of those damn bums out there.”

Anton shrugged.

“They're good people,” he replied back, causing the woman to shrink a bit, “I want to help them, once I'm able.”

He left then, now wearing the new clothes he had bought.

A kind of confidence surged through Anton unlike anything he had felt before. He was clean. He was sober. He was ready for change.

His eyes cast back to the alleyway that had been his home for the past two years. Others were in there; broken, hopeless souls that felt that nothing would ever get better. He wanted to make things better for them as well. He wanted to give them the hope that he had somehow begun to acquire.

He crossed the street, toward the first retail shop with a large white sign reading 'HELP WANTED' hanging in the window. His mind was buzzing with thought, emotion and revelation. He barely took note of the large shadow of a truck headed directly toward him. He walked in large strides, ears deaf to the long drone of the honking horn over the normal loud bustle of the city.

He was struck at the hip, causing his body to contort and roll over the large windshield of the vehicle. His body slapped at the pavement, the truck's wheels screaming against the road in it's haste to escape the grizzly scene.

Anton blinked slowly, the world of towering skyscrapers and smog-filled sky spinning about his blurry vision. People began to gather around him. He tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. He could barely move, yet struggled to as he saw familiar faces. Those that took him in through his darkest times, giving him shelter and company amidst the bustle of uncaring society. His lips tingled as he attempted to speak. He watched them lean in.

“Change.”

He felt the light above grow blinding. His face contorted into one, final grin. He hoped they could see how much it meant to him.

#20 - Ignorance Seems Bliss

A stirring. They were alive. I was permitted to move.

“You ready to go out boy?”

The voice was flitty, chastising and grated upon my sensitive ears. I looked up at him with watery, sleep-filled eyes. There was no need for that tone.

“Here, let's go!”

I allowed myself to be led to the door and shackled. A small tug upon my neck signaled me to move amongst the outside world.

“I know!” the voice of the woman came.

It was later, and I was seated upon the couch. I watched the woman speaking into the white receiver of her telephone, a bright smile lighting up her face.

“I know! I know!” she shrieked over and over again, “I know, it's crazy!”

Clearly she knows, woman! Would you quit repeating the phrase like a drugged parrot? I placed my arms over my head. A force smacked at my haunch.

“Who's a good boy?” the man now said, “who's a good boy?”

I watched him while trying to fill my gaze with as much hate and desire for cold murder as I was able. My attempts to end his incessant patting did little.

“Who wants to go for a walk?”

I groaned with malice, apparently ringing like music to the man. He strode over to a desk, retrieving my shackle once again.

“Here you go boy!” he stated with the chipper of a snow elf.

I briefly fantasized about him suddenly changing into such a being, complete with a pointed, green hat. He would be much easier to bleed out then.

The walk. Oh, how I hate the walk. Others all around, down roads and walkways, each following their masters with careless abandon. How could they be so willing to surrender themselves to such degradation and humiliating treatment? I felt a large tug on my chain, sending the thing into my windpipe. I forced back a frustrated growl.

“This way, time to go home.”

We found our way back to the man's house, and my eternal prison. He unchained me and sent me forward. The woman was still on the phone. She gave me a fleeting look before returning her gaze to an empty spot upon the far wall, her lips curled into that stupid smile I had rapidly grown accustomed to seeing.

“It's just too much, isn't it?” she squealed with a high-pitched giggle.

I willed for a large meteor to strike the dwelling of her poorly intelligent phone-mate. Another moronic laugh had told me that my wish was far from granted.

“Time for bed!” the man's voice came as a drill to my eardrums, “Time for bed for you!”

I padded along the floor, taking note of the twinkling stars that peeked out from a long window in the next room. I truly envied those dots of light.

“There's a treat waiting for you in the bed, all right?” the man said to me while stooping over and meeting his gaze with my own.”

Oh boy! There's nothing I would appreciate more than a stale, flavorless chunk of processed meat paste waiting for me in the area where I am supposed to sleep! I was riveted.

Still, I relinquished myself to my fate, allowing the grinning man to shut the door behind me. I found the nugget within my blanket and cast it aside. I attempted to find a comfortable enough spot on the lumpy bed while the irritating drone of the woman's idiot-inducting conversation persisted through the closed door. I lied myself down, breathing out a long, heavy sigh. I allowed my gaze to float lazily about the room while waiting to grow tired. I fell asleep then, the final thought in my cynical head being that of knowing tomorrow was going to be exactly the same.

#19 - Just in Time

“This truly is the end to a fantastic year, don't you think?” came the voice of the old announcer, “I can't wait to ring in the new!”

The words were unheard by another man as he pushed his way past the sea of people all gathered about the closed road. Frosted air stung at his eyes and exposed nose as he moved as fast as he could, his breath coming to him in heaving, burning gasps that did little to quench his tired body's thirst for oxygen. Broken glass bottles and various other garbage crunched beneath his hurried feet. There was no way he would find her; the crowd was much too large. How many people were gathered here? He pushed back his cynical thoughts and whipped his wrist before him. The hands upon his watch were teetering upon the edge of the top of the face. He didn't have much time left.

“And here we go, for twenty-eleven!” the announcer's voice rang out amongst the noisy, chilled and restless crowd, “The final minute is upon us! I'll be doing the countdown.”

One minute. He shoved several more people from his frenzied path, searching with wild, dried eyes. He blinked a few times as the blur of faces enveloped him.

49...48...

The crowd began to chant in primal tone, each wearing a look of supreme happiness and anticipation. He accidentally stomped upon the toes of a group of onlookers, causing their joyful faces to stare at him with fresh anger.

40...39...

It was over; no amount of shoving or pardoning himself within the mass of bodies would make any difference. How sure was he that such a thing was going to happen anyway? He merely watched as the large glittering letters shown out over a shining screen that towered above the road. The golden-hued number '29' grew from the display, followed by the next, and the next. He watched in vain as the ball, the glimmering beacon of attention from the several thousand that gathered here, made it's cheery descent upon the large needle.

Suddenly, impossibly, he caught a glimpse of a red hat. He merely gawked for a few moments, his mind not willing to believe the sight that was presented before him. Yet, sure enough, the red hat bobbed amongst the crowd, now bouncing up and down in a jumping celebration as it's owner tossed back a cascade of amber hair.

Further questioning would have to wait. He placed his arms before him and began to charge forward, caring not if his fingers happened to prod someone in the face or an elbow to jam into an exposed neck.

17...16...

He grew steadily closer, the surrounding crowd beginning to take a growing note of his brash rudeness. He felt body after body strike his own, the jeers and insults ringing out against the harshness of the much louder number chant.

10...9...

The crowd was in uproar around him, obviously not too keen upon someone to interrupt their shining moments of spectating. He was feet away. He reached for the light tan sleeve of her coat.

6...5...

He felt someone begin to pull him back. He struggled against the force, his own arms drawing away from the woman.

“You need to learn some-”

He kicked at the man's shin, causing the force to release. He made a mad sprint for the woman.

3...2...1...

He dove, his hands outstretched. He tackled the small frame of the woman, her body crumpling beneath him. Just then, an errant flash of light came speeding at the two of them, precisely upon the spot the woman had been standing. It exploded fantastically upon contact with the ground; an errant firework now lay in a charred, lifeless crater in the street. Screaming was heard all around him, followed by the movement of fleeing people. He looked to the woman to see her pretty face staring back at him in shock. Despite the situation, he smiled.

“Who are you?” she asked breathlessly, “And why did you do that?"

He chuckled, the rest of the world seeming pointless.

“My name is unimportant,” came his response, “I just saved your life.”