mediocrity

1. Leaving
He has his passport tucked safely in one pocket, creased plane ticket in the other. Briefcase in hand and loosening his tie, he finally locates his seat. Back home his wife, luggage in tow, shuts the door behind her one last time, rolling her sleeves down to hide painful souvenirs from nights of drunken tirades. (55)

2. Writer’s Block
Her mind seems numb at the very thought of it. Mouth drier than the Sahara. Palms flooded by salty seas. Whitening knuckles grip a pen that seems to have gotten heavier overnight. Her hands betray her now, she waits – inspiration! Her hands betray her now, trembling slightly, she looks down. She has written a story. (55)
3. Lust
Her skin seems to reflect his image as he gazes adoringly at her. He rubs his hand across the smooth, warm surface of her body. She growls, she purrs – octane fueled rumbles. A deft flick of his hand – she shudders with the pure ecstasy of life. Hands caressing, touching, feeling.
He drives.
4. Trophy
I can survey my kingdom from here – on top of the mantel, free of dust and scratches. I am his blood, sweat, tears melted down and molded into a glinting trophy. He cleans me everyday, admiring my shine as he rids of stains from nights when I double up as a club.
He loves me.


Bao Zhing - 315