Something New

Blink. Blink blink. Rub. Blinkblinkblinkblinkblink.

He wakes up. A room, unfamiliar. Yet… natural. Where?

A window, curtained. Green imitation satin, blinds halfway down behind. Room partially lit.

In bed. Half a sheet across the legs. The spot next to him: still warm. Shared, then. End tables on either side, both with lamps. A book on the one nearest his. His eyes absorb the cover, even as they flit elsewhere in the room. Crypt Songs. A mystery novel.

Closet directly across the bed, a walk-in. Left side clearly ‘his’ and the right ‘hers.’ Like two different personalities, hers an organized chaos; his meticulous. A bag sits next to the closet on the ‘his’ side. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it as a ‘ready-bag’, knows she thinks its for his job, knows that the job is a convenient lie. Like he knows the best place to hide a gun is in the antique footlocker on her side of the closet: she hasn’t opened it in 23 years, since long before they met. Padlock’s even a bit rusty.

Eyes scrunch shut, images flicker. He hears himself groan somewhere in a grey distance, balled fists rubbing his eyes.

He tosses his legs over the bed and forces himself to stand up.

Flicker.

The kitchen. Coffee’s just finished. He knows because it’s 7:23. Coffee is always done at 7:23. Because he leaves for his fake work at 8:05, and he takes exactly 17 minutes to quickly scan the newspaper before she pops the toast, that it takes him eight minutes to eat breakfast and talk, another 10 to shower, and the last 17 to get shaved, dressed and get a quick kiss. Exactly 42 total minutes from coffee to door.

But who is she?

A pack of cigarettes is in his hands. They came from the drawer at the end, tucked behind the silverware.

Flicker.

Outside, on the porch. Two puffs into the cigarette. He’s missing his 17 minutes of news.

The door creaks behind him.

“Honey? You quit like… two years ago.”

“I know. Can I ask you a favour?”

He can almost hear her smile, even though her voice has a tinge of disapproval. “Of course.”

He takes a drag.

“What’s your name, again?”

Flicker.