Oh! And before I forget, this is my story. Common Creative license currently, meaning that its here, its mine, I give you permission to re-use it with permission, if you do use it (after getting permission) just make sure you give credit, and please don't try selling it. (meaning don't. At all.) I enjoy writing, and I would hope you guys enjoy reading. So lets not ruin our bond here by doing anything stupid like stealing it. Cheers!
Just like me.
Broken.
Shattered by someone, something bigger than itself. Not really sure why it hit me like that, but it did. All I could do was stare at the tile, and how simple a metaphor it was for my life. Not that I could hold anyone responsible, its not like someone just came along and decided to shatter my perfect life, my "complete tile", but thats what it feels like. Feels like I've been just trying to get by with half of what I'm supposed to, like getting the short stick in a draw, except for this short stick was my life. Or at least its what it seems like. I still go out, but its all just become dry. Lifeless. I'm going through the motions, but its no longer fun or exciting. Dull, thats the word I'm looking for.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the other candidates? What happens to them if I agree?"
"You always cared too much Peter. But thats a good quality I suppose, if that's what does it for you. I've always found I like... More of a carefree attitude, personally." Mardar said as she licked her lips, tongue slowly catching on her upper lip, pulling it into her mouth for a quick nibble.
Peter looked up at her, raising one eyebrow slowly. "So you like children now Kuna? Is that what you're trying to tell me here?" He said somberly.
Mardar pouted. "I was trying to make a joke Peter." She sighed "If you must know, the other candidates will be the ones tested upon. Thats how it works. I'm pretty sure I explained this too you earlier. Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"To keep you on your toes. Besides, if I didn't, no one would. Check please!" Peter motioned a waiter over suddenly. The two were sitting at a small table on a veranda, surrounded by other small tables, all lit by candle, but theirs was the only occupied table.
"Thank you" Mardar smiled at the waiter as he left the table after giving Peter the check. "It must be nice you know."
"What must be nice?" Peter asked, giving her a funny look.
"Having money" She said slyly. "Must be nice to just reserve the whole restaurant if you wanted a private conversation while dining out. Not just any place either, you had to go high class, didn't you?" She added, glancing about. The soft candle light illuminated the ground enough to walk between tables, but dissipated into a soft glow just above the tables. This, coupled with the shining reflections of the bells hanging fr tomhe edges of the tables, and the low chuckling sound they produced as they swayed softly in the breeze was enchanting.
"Well, considering I am going to be taking you up on that offer, I figured we had to do something special this evening" Peter replied, lightly stressing 'special'. "It's not exactly like I'll be hurting for money, so I might as well get used to using it." He smiled cheekily at Mardar. "Besides, we both know how well I do with... people. And friends. So I needed someone to celebrate with. Hence why I called you up."
"And here I thought perhaps I was being chosen especially." She replied winking. "Some new friends might do you good though, Peter. You know that seeing people is important. Humans are naturally social creatures. It's part of why what we're attempting is so likely to work. We all have natural tendencies to depend upon each other, just this is... more sophisticated and much less friendly about it." She leaned forward, a smile parting her lips. "Now, about this 'celebration'. Does it end with dinner, or is there dessert at your place afterwards?"
"I suppose I could do with a little dessert myself..." Peter leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss before sitting back. "But I believe we have to wait for the receipt before leaving for that."
Kuna pouted at him, crossing her arms in a childish manner.
"Now now Kuna... I would hate to go to all this trouble, and then get hit by some legal problem because I forgot and didn't have record of where a couple thousand dollars went. I'm sure that our evening can wait for a few more minutes." Peter smiled. "Besides, a little anticipation never killed anyone. Just makes dessert more... delightful."
His smile grew, mirroring Kuna's pout.
I always wake up before I... I mean, Peter... Gets back to his place with Kuna. And I can't help but wish I could stay asleep a little longer, just to see what happens, to live those moments. As much as I hate dreaming of being Peter, whoever this guy is, I must admit at times I am rather jealous of him.
Especially with regard to Kuna. This is the second dream I've had where I've had the dream before with out realizing it was Kuna in it, and now I'm recognizing her. I don't know how I didn't before.
Long, soft, glimmering black hair, so dark that it seems to suck in the color around it, framing a petite face, deeply tanned by the sun in Panama where she came from. A slight frame, slightly shorter, hardened by work as a teen, and continually reinforced by her rigorous exercise regimes now that her food and life doesn't depend on the next crop. How she managed to go through school at all amazes me, much less to go on to become a psychophysiologist. It is simply astounding. I wonder what makes Peter so special, what draws her to him. Is it the money? Something to do with being the one candidate or something I suppose. Something I'm not.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
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