Things clang about in the distance on the other side of the counter. The air reeked of otherwise brewed coffee, if not the raw beans of the ingredient.
A rustling of clothes took over the clanging, rushed footsteps accompanying the sound, and when I looked up from the table where my eyes were locked onto nothing, a young man appeared almost immediately in front of me, sitting as soon as he got there, eyes shifting so much I couldn't help but get distracted by it. Not to mention, his dark skin made the eyes stand out more.
"Hi, I'm uh, I'm the applicant. I'm Guerrero."
I think he was the cautious type of person. Eager to do what it takes to socialize when needed, keeps his distance from people he has to shake hands with.
I don't shake hands.
As he spoke, his eyes shifted between my own set of eyes and my hands plotted about on the table. Well, he didn't really look me in the eye. He only ever looked below it such that it seemed he was looking at it, but he either only looked at the space between the eye and the cheeks, or the space between the two eyes, just above the nose. He didn't even look at my hands on the table too; it seemed he was more engaged at the nothing on the table that my hands embraced, rather than on my hands themselves.
It was a fine morning, and he was cautious, so I took out the most absolute-looking pretense I could get out of myself and put on a large smile across my face. I took out my hand, and initiated a clear gesture for a handshake.
Now, I don't smile often, so it hurts when you hear comments telling you not to smile at all, or to keep your smiles to yourself.
His face dictated that comment out to me.
He unknowingly took my hand. This time I feel his eyes kind of brush its look over my own eyes themselves, as he looked all over my face with that disgusted look he had. It irritated me so much I'd crush that dark fucking face any chance I get.
And an unspoken agreement to shake hands was between us, and I was happy. I shook his hand, or maybe he shook mine.
"Hi. I'm Louis."
"Hi, Louis, I'm... I'm the applicant."
"Yep, I know! You told me that already. Guerrero, right?" I replied, still keeping my smile, as he looked at me with disgust that didn't waver even for a bit.
"Y-yeah, man. Uhm, what's the job? I-I mean, you didn't mention what it was, so."
"Oh, yeah... The job."
I looked at that spot on the table again. I think I saw my wife, her with her beautiful eyes
and her bloodied face.
"You killed my wife. That was the job, Guerrero."
His face dictated his fear; his eyes even more so. It amused me.
"And on behalf of that,
this is
mine."
YOU ARE READING
OoN: out of nowhere
General Fictiona futuristic house with very realistic habitat virtualizations. a different version of the afterlife. a usual day turned unusual in seconds. That's a few. What else can there be? stories. weirdness. immediacy. all in one place (like I hope it shou...
