Following Sandra In New Orleans

Heaviness painfully throbbed your beating heart, as the world could not understand it and could never see it. With your slurred words and tired, dilated eyes, I smiled, knowing you were not from here, watching you drenched in sweat, dripping down from your neck in the midst of this muggy unforsaken place. And as the last song of thunderous sounds from trumpets played while golden horns slowly waved in and out of the dark, screaming to a high climax then falling low and lower as if it was a rhythm of a train in the rain, slowing making its stop, many along the walls stood whispering to others while gazing back and forth in your direction as those at their tables whispered amongst cigarette smoke, using their empty glasses as ashtrays. And miserably, you walked towards me across the room with courage, and I already knew, just like the others, life had already broken you. And I waited on the other side with a smile until you arrived, as you stumbled, drunkenly aroused— into my web. Then your eyes followed my hips outside the front door. We walked further away from the departing crowd. And further away. Then further away into darkness, then you heard the sound of car doors mysteriously opening. Footsteps crept closer, and you searched and strained your eyes to see what was waiting. And when you saw them, you were suddenly transfixed You cautiously called my name to get an understanding. And there was a sound of a closing door, and I had vanished away. Desperate scrambling sparked, with a quick touch of a blade to your neck. Movements pushed and pulled against each other. And a sound of fumbling, finally ending with a loud screech— silence. Heavy footsteps quickly ran away, and time had stood still. Then you limped back to your car with an empty wallet and a frown of dried tears— A fake phone number folded in your pocket. You were drenched in the darkest of dark, and I was in my element, watching and waiting in my car for my share of the money we earned. JG Finch