Let Them Fall

Matt Schnarr

I've been walking in the rain for an hour now.  My black coat has been soaked, and it feels like tar clinging to my back.  I don't care about puddles, I'm soaked to the point where water makes it dryer.  My tears have blended in with the rain, combining into bitter sweet dew drops.  My hair has been matted down, and probably resembles a roadkill-wig.  At this point I really don't give a shit.  I just want to get home.

She's been looking out her window, her eyes are searching for him.  Her heart pattern has gone up and down enough to make a Motzart symphony jealous.  The night time sky makes her reflection more noticeable.  It's eyes are darker, more open, like voids they reach into her eyes.  They suck out her mind, and work lower, and lower until her heart comes out from her mouth; and she releases her tale upon a thin glass window.

It flutters.  Vibrations.  Its senior is asleep, so someone else must be talking.  Its senior's words can be felt from inside, but anyone else outside are only vibrations; seeing as it has no ears the only thing it has is touch.  It has super touch, like a super hero.  A freaking super hero, it is so full of itself, not so much now, but lately it has been.  Right now it's relaxed, and mildly annoyed for coming out of hibernation.  If only it had the ears to hear.

My car died awhile back.  No gas, and me being the pretentious fuck-up that I am, I figured I'd walk the rest of the way.  I am so loathing myself right now, and if my feet had mouths they'd probably tell me that I should.  I'm not really thinking about where I am, or was going for that matter.  All I can think about is the strange man in the dark suit across from me under the street light.  His face is cut in half by a smiling shadow; made from the top hat's bill over his fore-head.  The shadows are the only joyful things tonight, I can tell you that much.
"Hello!" He yells to me.  To me, what a fucking bastard.
Oh god, this is the part where I respond to a rhetorical statement.  "Hi."  Oh nice move, smooth.
"Nice evening."  What the hell is he talking about, does he even notice that his...well, that’s surprising, somehow his jacket has remained dry.  Maybe I should step under that li-"if you like rain."  Had to say something right?
"Don't do it Jack."

"Oh what do you know?"  She says.
"I know what you've done," it replies, smiling with the black holes in its sockets, "I know what you're thinking about right now."
"Well explain it to me, cause I was spaced out until you interrupted."
"What will he do when he gets back?"
"Oh shove off!" She steps back, feeling self malice in every fiber of the carpet beneath her feet.

An even more sudden vibration!  For the love of god, could it just go into its private place, for a few minutes?  A few god damn minutes!  Any more noise and it won't be the only thing awake and erect.  Its senior, he is very grouchy with sudden awakenings, he likes his beauty sleep.  But lately, from its perspective, it wouldn't seem that he needs it.

"Pardon?"  What the hell is the guy talking about?  Anyone that wears a tailed jacket this time of night should definitely be questioned, especially in intentions.
"Jack, don't do it."
"Don't do what?"
"You know what I am referring to."
"No, I really don't."  This fucking guy.  How the hell can he be so fucking coy, so damn shit-laced dry?!
"It isn't worth it."

"Confront it Jill."  It says with dark honesty.
"Confront what, I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's four feet from you, and you don't know what I'm talking about?"
"That...That isn't important."
"No, that robe you slid into isn't important," it says, a smirk on its face, "this is now, and its necessary."

The vibrations have settled, and it swoons down into its silence again.  Any more stress, and its going to be hard in the morning.

"If you are referring to gas prices, get with the fucking times." I swear this guy's going to end up in a drag bar from "Victor/Victoria".
"No Jack, I'm referring to your intentions."
"Funny, I was just about to ask you about yours."
"Just preventing a mistake, I assure you."  Look at that sincere smile, this guy should be on the cover of fucking Times.
"Mistakes are inevitable, so what the hell are you getting at?"
"Sexual diseases are inevitable, so what are you screwing for?"  I knew it!
"Is that what this is?  Are you trying to get a jig in my pants?"
"No, I'm preventing a disease."

She held tears back, flooding behind her eye lids.  "I can't confront it..."
"You can, and I can help you."
"I don't want your help."
"You usually need what you don't want."
"I want you to leave."
"We always want what we don't need."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"  Jill frantically began to bang the window frame, slashing at it, punching it, pushing acceptance back with a hurricane.

Again with the vibrations.  It can tell they're distant, going off like bombs over a mountain shaking sheets of snow; but these just shake the sheets around it.  Long vibrations, yells of anguish.  It knows the feeling of a yell from pleasure, and this is more like feeling rusted aluminum than silk or satin.  Its senior begins to awake.

"If it's so inevitable, then why not just let it happen now?"  I took a debate class in High School, I failed, but I took it.
"Some things are worth preserving."
"But can we choose what should be preserved?"
"Are you a pessimist, or an optimist?"
I always thought those sounded like terms of communism, "lets say I'm a pessimist."
"Then we should let the dice fall as they may."
"And if I'm an optimist?"
"Then we throw the dice faster, and farther.  So it has more time to land on the sides we want."
"What if I just don't give a damn?"  I try to keep an apathetic facade, I'm full of fu-I'm full of shit.
"Then you hold on to the dice, and pretend they don't hold some sort of value."

Small tears begin to melt her mascara into an abstract art piece.  It wouldn't be going too far to say that that reflects how she feels; drowning in her midnight guilt.
The robe has slid down around her shoulders.  Her upper back, exposed to the cold tension, trembles from the weight of goose bumps on a fragile soul; too close to the edge even the simplest touch can push her over.
"Amelia," a voice whispers behind her, he didn't say her name...the son of a bitch has the nerve to dream of another.
"Come back, you know I love you," this action of theirs means nothing to him!  Is she just another girl, an imitation of Amelia?
She drops her robe around her ankles, releasing her body to the cold crisp air of jealousy.  Her lower lip begins to tremble, the dam has cracked and water starts seeping through; soon the pressure builds and a river releases itself.  She looks back into the voids, lower lip quivering in her insecurity, tears making her cheeks radiant with anger.
"I need your help."

Like a faithful pet it points to the prey, but there is only darkness.  He must be dreaming again, dreaming of her.  It remembers her, how could it forget.  It shares her with everything it has met.  Now she remains on the tongue, and the insides of half of the city.  The vibrations have stopped, silence?  Where has the voice gone?  It never felt the slamming of a door.

"Well they don't!"  What type of crap does he know?  He doesn't know me, sure as hell doesn't know me.
"Somewhere down there they do Jack."
"You're fuc-you're wrong, you have no idea what they mean to me."
"I can imagine what they could."
"They can't mean anything to me now."
"And why not?"
"Someone chipped their corner, and now they land on the same sides every dam-every time..."
"So what are you going to do with them?"
"TOSS'EM ACCROSS THE ROOM!"  Get off my case you pathetic...
"Maybe there's an alternative."  Room, Hotel Room, oh my god the hotel is a block behind me!  I've let him distract me, I did not walk all this way just to...
"Look..."
"Find another pair."
"I gotta-"
"Let yours fall as they may Jack, and walk away."
"I gotta go."
"Find another pair, and play again."

"He always leaves it on the chair Jill," it gestures towards the desk chair behind her.
Jill walks over and looks at his navy blue jacket, throws it aside like Kleenex, and looks at the gun holster; hanging from the pole like a monkey with a one handed death grip.  She takes the gun, checks for ammunition...the son of a bitch. never trusted anyone, all eight bullets in the chamber.  She quietly walks over to his side of the bed, and collapses, like drooping rose petals, into a crouch.
"Baby," she whispered.
"Open your eyes."

The vibrations are slight, she's still in the room.  Is she asking for more?  He's waking up.  All the muscles around it tense up as he stretches.  He certainly thinks she wants more; "hey baby what are you doin’?"  Maybe she has something a little rough in mind, it likes it a little slower usually but it's been awhile.  "SHIT!"  A loud bang, and a very sudden shutter inside of it.  Its insides start to leave it cold, rushing to a release of pressure.  He isn't moving, and its losing feeling.  This is death, another vibration from a bang, but this time no shudder, not in its senior's body.  Slowly it swoons down, for the last time.  It'll never have to work again, the villain has found its weakness, and it couldn't stop lead.

"CHRIST!"  I yell as I turn around, though I don't think he was anywhere near those two gun shots, "what the hell was that?"
The man didn't respond, strange, the one moment where I want to talk to someone and he's doesn't talk back.  My heart is pounding in my chest, striking down my front with lightning of sudden anxiety.  I want to walk one more block...but I'm not going to.  I'm turning around, I'm going to let them fall as they may, and I'm going to walk away.  Yep, he's gone, but...that's funny looking'.  Right were he stood, a dove's feather floats down in the cold night air.  Innocently white, it glows on the surface, and the light that shines through to the other side of it is brighter than before.  Like a ray of hope, it floats ahead of me...heh...
"Some things are worth preserving..."