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25 July 2008 @ 08:47 pm
Looking For A Good Time  
"I'm tired of breathing; I don't wanna do it anymore. Don't think I can handle another morning. How beautiful the thought is. Tonight it ends. Isn't that beautiful?"

I was standing on the balcony of the second cheapest hotel in town. I do have some standards. The Asian prostitute I had just very generously given forty bucks to suck me off was walking back and forth on the edge of the balcony's wall. She was sexy, even so close to death. Not a feat most people are capable off. Her words were buried under stereotypical accenting. From the time she walked into my room till now, I didn't believe it was real. Though now I had my doubts. Who fakes an accent when talking of suicide? A professional. Not willing to give up the act for a moment, as if hearing her speak in an Americanized accent would do more harm to my lingering hard-on than the thought of her stepping off the balcony and falling ten stories to her death.

"Come down, please?" What can I say, I wasn't schooled for that type of weirdness. Granted the mix of cocaine and gin in my system didn't help.

"I wanted to be an atheist when I was a child. Nobody up there," her surprisingly long neck tilting back, reviling curves that most can only come close to with the cover of a beauty magazine. "Isn't that nice? Nobody watching you? Nobody waiting. Nobody judging you for what has happened. I was a silly girl. Get rid of Him up there, and you still have to deal with the other seven billion down here watching and judging everything. So boring."

Moonlight can be deceiving. Watching it smother the whore about to die on my watch-and dime-it made the whole situation seem right. Natural, even. Just another day in the post-apocalyptic Garden of Eden. This close to paradise, and who's to argue that.

When she came in the room, she smiled at me. Called me "Sir," and didn't follow it up with a last name. So informal. So relaxed. Of course she didn't know my last name, but that's neither here nor there. She wouldn't have used it. It wasn't in the eyes. Nothing was. Had she been a chalice, it would have made sense. Covered in gold and jewels which just might be magical, despite being devoid of any substance. Too bad for her, she was born a human. Worse even, a woman. The sex was good. I could lie and be overly generous as most are when speaking of the dead, but that wouldn't be right. She was on the job and she let you know it from the word go. No deceit. I shouldn't have hired her, I should have married her.

I don't remember if I reached out. I saw her bare left foot glide out into the night. Her skin was illuminating. It sliced the lonely skies like a knife, and you felt better just for witnessing such beauty. Details of the horrific scene be damned. I hope I reached out. Too unwilling to let something so precious slip away from the earth. As the days pass I doubt the will of my arms more and more. In a month I will give myself fifty-fifty. In a year I'll accept the possibility that I was too stoned and dazed by the light show to have done anything. A year after that, If I'm any kind of man at all, I will repeat her performance, this time off a higher balcony and with far less grace.

I had an hour with her. If I didn't get mugged the day before I might have been able to afford two. Another reason to go out and fight crime in a cape. Sixty minutes to fall in love, and break your heart. That's too much for anyone, let alone a waste of flesh like myself-and don't I fit in wonderfully. Never got a name from her. Besides a smile and a few small points to the timing of business, I got nothing but those few lines at the end. The sentences that made so much sense.

If only she flew as well as she sang. If only the truth was as believable. I picked the wrong state to stop in. That I am guilty of above all else. Who catches up on prosecuting procedure before picking a hotel? I like to think she picked me, when it gets quiet around here. In the daytime when I am allowed to walk the yard, the reality of things come through. I called for a whore, spoke to a pimp, and got whomever wasn't busy at the moment. Though those hours, after the guard on duty hails the call for "lights out!" I know the truth. She saw something in me. She knew I would bare witness, and she knew I would listen.