ARRvol34 master reduced - Flipbook - Page 67
deliberately and slowly into the bottom of the black bag, seeping
into the fabric, invisible. Then she stood up stiffly, her knees creaking. Everything was still and silent as she started toward the door.
Her footsteps made no sound to match her strides. Outside, she
looked down at her sacred slippers and let them take her where she
belonged.
When she got there, they glittered in the light, reflecting colors
so saturated that she squinted. Her shadows spread out from her
feet in a starburst, like a time-lapsed photo of a sundial experiment.
They followed as she made her way along the path as best she could
under the influence of everything she’d sworn off. Each step sent a
resounding clack, like a typewriter key pounding its presence into
paper, with ink and indentation for proof. The path led her to a bar
she remembered.
“You came back!” said the bartender with a smirk. “That’s ok. Don’t
beat yourself up. I know what you like.” Then he set a Midori sour in
front of her, glowing brilliantly green in its faceted glass. The glass
was filled to the brim, so she leaned over it without picking it up,
to take her first sip. The bar surface was mirrored, and in it she saw
the reflection of her garish red lipstick, roses of blush on her cheeks,
open pores. She swallowed the sip and felt it travel to her core, felt
it spread a buzzing white noise down her limbs and into her digits
at a frequency that could only be felt, not heard. She looked up and
smiled with one side of her mouth at the bartender. Then she snickered, imagining herself reciting her final line - the ridiculous moral
to her story in an old black and white film. Relief had always been
there for the taking, in her own predilections. How simple it all was.
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