Tossing and turning... somewhere something hurts, but it is a dull pain, so I ignore it. I have places to go, things to do, but before I must meet someone at this bar.
At first I don't seem to recall who is it that I am supposed to talk to, but I have the feeling I'll know as soon as I see her, and there she is.
It's been a while and although I stay the same she had changed, a lot, but then it is her nature. Her frame is much like mine, wide, thick boned, but somehow she managed to make it look like she's at least 50 pounds lighter. I roll my eyes and fake a deep sigh... yeah I know. I gotta find out how to loose pounds of my own, but is so easy for her, I'm not even going to bring it up.
Her getup is black on black as expected, the only traces of color come from a shirt with digital clocks fading into a silver landscape. A Dali motif would have sufficed, but she had to make sure it is drained of personality, spark or life.
I smile, a mechanical customer service smile. She dismisses my gesture while finishing a cigarette just to start another. Her hair is blond with a hint of platinum highlights. It looks carefully disheveled. I've been planning to lighten a couple of tones for at least a month now, but something tells me she knows about it and beat me to it. It will never look as good in me, not after she's done it. A perfectly manicured hand with long silver tipped nails hands me a glass. She's been drinking Bushmills. I decline.
"What's up?" - she says, with perfect British accent. And it crosses my mind how come she sounds like this? Perhaps is because it is plain bad ass, or because of recent exposition to one Guy Ritchie film too many.
"You tell me" - I replied, in Spanish and I do so quickly and with the confidence she will understand , she always does, no matter what or how I say it.
" Today's conversation is sponsored by the word mediocrity." She stretches, as to compose herself and I can see an intricate tattoo that was not there before. A Celtic knot. I feel like I have to go someplace, but right now I don't remember exactly where is it I was meant to go.
" Don't get distracted now lassie" she tells me and I am positive she is using the word with the intention to mean bitch instead of as a term of endearment. "You are getting soft, have been standing in the same place for too long. Comfortable in your skin, that's what you say. I say you need to move on or drown."
I hated her for a second, I swear, but I had to let go. I even smiled when I noticed she was wearing an ID sticker with big bold red letters that read HELLO my name is LITTLE MS. JUNG. To fight her is to give myself a headache good enough to carry into my waking moment.
" Quite the sense of humor there you bastard" - I said dryly.
"Right back at ya" was the last thing I heard.
I woke up with a sense of whiskey and cigarettes, annoyed at my shadow and pissed at myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment