Project 365, #14 Flash Fiction, "Armed"

"Armed"

I stood at the wall of windows, placing my palms flat against the glass.  I was uncomfortably warm in my skin, feeling the heat dissipating out my fingers and into the cold beyond the pane.  Closing my eyes, I leaned forward pressing my forehead to the cool surface, willing my thoughts to bleed out and into the swirling air countless stories above the street.  I could hear the neighboring rooms playing something with a strong bass-line, and could barely register the vibration coming through the floorboards and up into my bare feet.  Perhaps I shouldn't have had that extra glass of wine after all.

I was strongly rooted into my sensations when I heard the door click somewhere behind me.  I didn't turn around.  Instead I opened my eyes to gaze out at the lights in the city below.  I tried to focus on just about anything but the creature rustling around behind me.  I know its my way of building anticipation, this detachment from the moment.  I preferred it when reality crashes down in an obliterating wave of onslaught.  I closed my eyes again, breathing deeply and feeling my body tingle with fullness that increased oxygen garnered.

He had learned not to speak to me when I was in my personal reverie.  I'd gotten particularly good at conveying my intentions to him with a minor glance and nod from across the room.  We had our own language of how these things would exhaust themselves.  A shadowplay of action against the backdrop of ordinary living, where we were the only ones with the capability of seeing the presence and occlusion of light. 

I became transfixed with the notion of light and dark in a dance, swirling around in my mind and blurring into grays.  Suddenly a shock of red burst into my vision as I was pressed bodily against the window.  The dichotomy of heat and ice suited me.  The unyielding nature of both winding me into a frenzy, unreleased and consuming.  My measured breathing was arrested and did not go unnoticed.  He turned me about and looked into my eyes, with his penetrating gaze.  He was uniquely skilled at getting beneath my skin without even employing so much as a finger.  His stare could press at a thousand triggers and fire them all at once, unleashing an assault that could leave his target opened, exposed and intimately satisfied.

With a crooked smile, he began to fire.