Coffee Shop
Here she sits, waiting to discuss a dreary topic, on a bright and lovely day, at a table in front of the coffee shop. A gentle breeze passing by as a gentleman greets her, to discuss the matters at hand.
“Hi, are you the woman I spoke with this morning?”
“Yes, I was wondering about the victim; I may know who it is.”
“Who might that be, and what relation have you?”
“It might be my boyfriend, he often drives out to the piers after work, ” she says, “He said he’d be late last night, due to a meeting, but he never came home.”
The two continue discussing details about the man, as people flit in and out of door in the background. Once they’ve come to a conclusion that it is a possibility, he offers her to come and take a look.
“The body is still in good condition, would you be willing to come and take a look,” he asks, “It could possibly help us figure out what happened; right now, we don’t have much else to go on.”
“I guess I can; I’m just worried about him,” she replies.
They sip their coffees, on a beautiful day, under morbid circumstance. People passing by none-the-wiser, of what matters have just been discussed at this table.
The Sacrifice
He steps out of the office, himself knowing that it will be the last time. His heart beats, with an unsteady rhythm, as he lets the thought slip into his mind, “Is this what has to be done?”
He makes his way into the parking garage, his mind in quandary. This is my choice, my decision, everything up to this point has been knowing where to look, when to speak, and a whole lot of luck. So long as they find out why…
“Why,” that is the question that has too many answers, “what caused this,” is better.
What caused this? My life caused this; my friends, my family, my place in the world, I traded them all for success.
He climbs into his car, and starts the engine, purring in near silence. He has to make the trip to the pier for his final meeting.
Now, to give back. To give up. To throw down. When it matters most, I have to take the risks apparent. I will change this world with my sacrifice. I hold the key to the future, but I cannot watch it come into fruition.
The world I lived in, prospered in even, is a world that is not looking for a sustainable future. Everyone is moving for themselves under the guise of moving as a group. Soon, society, and the communities within will fall apart, as everyone plots to defect on everyone else. All the lying bastards, telling one story and acting in another.
He pulls into a space by the pier, shutting off the engine, as he makes his final contemplations.
Now, I trade my life, cutting it short, for a end to the insanity of man. I trade my power and knowledge for the dream. Just have to call her, and let her know I’ll be “late,” first.
*RING*RING*
“Hey Hun,” she says, “are you going to be home soon?”
“I’ve got one more meeting tonight, and then some paperwork. I might not make it home, until tomorrow afternoon. Love you.”
“Love you, too. See you when you when you get in, have a goodnight.”
He steps out of the car, as he finishes his own preparations. This is it.
Just One More Mile.
Just another mile, he thinks. Just one more, then I’ll be where I want to be. *RING* *RING* *RING* He stops, exhales, and pulls his phone out, “Hello?”
From the speaker, a female voice, “Hi, I think you can help me with some questions I have, can we meet somewhere?”
“Questions, what kind of questions, and how did you get my number?”
“The editor of the paper gave it to me. I have some questions about the body found on the beach this morning. Can we meet at the coffee shop, on 5th and Main, at noon?”
“Do you have some information, you want to share,” he asked.
“Yes. Please meet me,” she says as she hangs up.
That was awkward, he thinks. I guess I better hurry up and get back home. Just another mile. Just one more mile, and I’ll be where I need to be.
Her Morning
6:03
She awoke to the sun coming in through the french doors, that separated her bedroom from the balcony. She made her way down the hall, dressed only in a loose-fitting blouse and her panties, toward the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, a nice Kona blend, with such lovely aromatics that filled the room. While in the kitchen, she picked up a banana and a bowl of grapes, then made her way back to her room.
Setting the bowl and her cup on top of the dresser, while she slipped on some jogging pants. She opened the doors to the balcony, and placed her laptop on the table, turning it on in the process, stepping back in only to gather her food and coffee. She sets down to read her daily news, mainly the Times and other local papers.
6:48
As she’s making her way through the headlines, and sipping her coffee, she suddenly spots a disturbing headline, “Young Man’s Body Found on Beach.” He had called her from out there last night, and he sounded rushed. “It couldn’t be him, could it,” she thought. She picks up her phone, off of the nightstand, and calls him, straight to voice-mail.
6:54
She quickly gets dressed, skipping a shower; she has to find out if it’s him. She makes her way out of the the apartment, and into the elevator, all the while, on her phone trying to contact the paper, to see where she needs to go.
*RING* *RING* *RING*
7:03
Tides of His Life
As he walked under the pier, the tide slowly washing over the sands at his feet, he looked out towards the sun, ships upon the water. As he peered at this wonderful sight, he saw his true purpose for being here, a clump of seaweed washed onto the beach, this clump was odd though, a hand stuck out from the knotted plants. He went over to look at this anomaly risen from the ocean, pulling the leaves back gently he saw that the body had yet to swell. The body was a male, approximately twenty years of age, short dark brown hair, 6 foot and some, prominently dressed, and a set of perfect teeth, a clean cut son of privilege.
Poor bastard, had so much of his father’s money left to inherit.
He’s Late
He rose up; before he even opened his eyes, he let out a scream, in self-disgust, “Oh, Fuck!” As quick as it was for him to say this, he was on his feet and grasping for the clothes that lay around the room; his eyes still heavy. He grabs a pair of pants, off of the arm of a chair in the corner of the room, a shirt that lay beside him in the bed, just seconds before, and jumps into the shoes over by the door. As he is rushing he remembers to snatch his wallet and his glasses, the fatigue of his eyes beginning to lift.
He takes off in full stride, out of the room, down the hall, out of the exterior door; throwing his glasses on, and shoving his wallet into place in his pocket, along the way. As soon as he opens the exterior door, the world becomes blinding; his eyes begin to shutter, as they try to acclimate to all of the changes, they have encountered, so rapidly.
Three minutes have passed.
