In the morning, he smells like fresh mountain air, earth, the woods. Somehow, it’s the most comforting scent you’ve known.
You share breakfast, hands touching.
When you make a silly little joke, he smiles like he found a piece of chocolate hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket.
He smells like the rain, even when the rain’s been gone for days. Sprinkles of the sea on his wet hair. The boy Poseidon would envy, the one Amphitrite longs to touch.
The Baudin House sits in an old land where time remains still.
The trees
around the garden keep the property out of sight, creating shade with
their tall bodies. Emma likes to spend her summer there, in the perfect
shadows of her garden.
He looks surprised. As surprised as someone with empty eye sockets
and no skin can look. He’s a skeleton who’s sipping on a strawberry
mocha while tapping his Nike clad foot.
“You’re sponsored by Nike?” I ask.
He lets go of the straw. “Wouldn’t that be rad?” He sighs. “But no. This is more like a government job.”
Of course it is. “Right.”
He smirks, I think. ”I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I make these deals with mortals I really really like.”
“And what do you get in return?”
“A
favor, usually.” He pauses. “But in your case, I just want you to give
up coffee. Cold. Hot. Sweet. Fresh. Instant.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You’ll give up something trivial and I’ll give you something precious in return: time.”
“I
could kill for coffee right now,” I say to Mark. He’s looking at me
like he’s had the worst day of his life, which is definitely his
everyday look. For some reason I find it hilarious. I
try to hide my glee as we arrive at the coffee house. I’ve been dreaming
of that cappuccino all day. You might think it’s funny to obsess over
something so small. It’s kind of a reward for me. I’m rewarding myself
for living another day.
Mark looks at the menu. “I want mine dark. No sugar.”
I
approach the counter as he walks away. “Hi, I’d like a Cappuccino,
iced, unsweetened. And strawberry mocha for my friend, extra sweet,” I
nod towards Mark, who’s idly standing over a few feet away to wait for
his order.
After I’m handed Mark’s drink I turn to him but he’s not there. I look around. Darkness. The shop’s gone. So are the people.
“I can have that,” someone says. I turn and meet with a hooded figure, who’s already reaching for the drink.
“That’s for my friend.”
“I’m your friend,” the figure says, now sipping through a straw. “Yummy,” he has strawberry cream smeared all over his mouth.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I’m Bill.”
“Bill who?”
“Bill
the reaper. I’m here to take your life.” He checks his watch. “In about
24 hours. Anyway, this is awesome.” He leans in, drinking heartily as I
try to figure out who came up with this stupid prank.
“Don’t act like this is a surprise,” he says.
“It is.”
“Oh?”
Now he looks surprised. As surprised as someone with empty eye sockets
and no skin can look. He’s a skeleton who’s sipping on a strawberry
mocha while tapping his Nike clad foot.
“You’re sponsored by Nike?” I ask.
He lets go of the straw. “Wouldn’t that be rad?” He sighs. “But no. This is more like a government job.”
Of course it is. “Right.”
He smirks, I think. ”I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I make these deals with mortals I really really like.”
