101 Words

My daily commute has become increasingly difficult lately. There’s the usual gridlock, of course, but now there are the dinosaurs too.
Traffic reports on the radio announce that the time portal is still being repaired. That’s been two days now.

Suddenly my car shakes as a Triceratops lumbers between the vehicles ahead. Another delay. An Ankylosaurus smashes a delivery truck with its tail; boxes and their contents scatter across the road. More time lost. Then I hear a thunderous roar. There’s a T. rex further up ahead.

I close my eyes and turn the music up—I’m not going anywhere soon.

Perplexed, the exorcist stared at the casserole.

“It’s the same thing every time,” his client whispered. “That tuna-jello stuff.”

The exorcist tapped the gelatin with a pencil. It quivered uneasily.

“Have you already tried eating it?” A fork on the counter clattered to the linoleum.

“Maybe that’s all she wants.”

Dutifully, the client pretended to chew and swallow a forkful, although it vanished on his tongue.

“It’s good,” he muttered, and a warm breeze played through his hair. The casserole, too, vanished.

At the door, exorcist and client shook hands.

“Tell you what,” said the exorcist. “I’ll bill you half price.”

I am sore, sad, and empty; anyone can see that. But unseen is your photo on my dresser. I take care that the scent on your shirt does not mingle with mine.

Your shoes wait patiently by the door. In the evening, when the sky is like backlit cotton, I think of you.

Hair. Body. Blue glass eyes. The art you almost were.

On some days I wish it had been different, but I cannot say I regret what I did to you. The real art was the kill, and then the restoration. Now you are part of my private collection.

A fresh breeze was blowing. The sun shone just above the horizon. He could actually see it now.

A mighty river flowed before him, and the sun’s golden reflection looked like another sun in the water. The open sky looked as if it had taken its saffron colour from flowers. Leaves rustled; birds chirped. He couldn’t believe it!

Now the game of life and death he had to play was with nature.

He was seeing this. He was feeling this. He was free.

Again.

Forty years after aliens conquered Mother Earth, the last male Homo sapiens was released back into nature.

The hollow ding and dong behind your door fade as they go deeper into the house to summon you.

How often have I stood here, waiting to be let in?

Think of the winters I stand on your doorstep, hoping you’ve put coffee on to fill my mug and thaw my frozen fingers. Think of my aching legs, waiting to collapse into my indent on your couch. Think of how I watch for your face, wanting to see you open the door, smile, and kiss me.

I’ve spent so much time waiting. Too much.

No more doorbells.

I want a key.

After many years apart, he calls to say, “I wish I had made love to you more.” For days my heart flutters, my skin tingles.

Next conversation: he reveals he might have cancer.

I say, “Don’t assume anything. Wait and see what your tests show.”

And he says, “Right. Be prudent.” Then he switches, “You’re so beautiful. I miss holding you.” My heart swells.

Conversation after that: he has cancer. Stage three. We make plans for him to stay with me so I can help with his after-surgery care. Separate bedrooms.

Now I must shift to loving him in new ways.