niche

one

olivia was olivia, and she was in topeka, kansas.

olivia had a lot of names. she always did, but lately she never mentioned what she was to be called. she couldn't avoid meeting people, for the abrupt reason that she was beautiful. she was wearing green tonight. she wore green most nights, and she enjoyed imagining she was a tree, her limbs growing as roots and her hair twisting into leaves. it made her feel less confined.

the taste of vodka was familiar to her, and so were the eyes. she could feel them all around her, she always did.

she wouldn't lie to herself about the fact that she was attractive. she knew that her metabolism was fast and her ass had that slight curve that drove men crazy. her skin was a milky tan, and her hazel eyes complimented her dark almond hair.

aiden wasn't far. a couple buildings down. they don't have a clue about each other's existence.

aiden was drinking beer instead of vodka. he didn't enjoy picking his poison. he was a good distance older than olivia. he had a wife and a daughter. tonight, a man would break into his home and murder them both while he sat calmly.

olivia didn't pay much attention to the multiple sirens passing by the bar she was perched at. she didn't know someone's life had just shriveled up and dwindled behind his back. two weeks later, olivia would find him crying at the bar she visited regularly. she didn't try and ask what the matter was. instead, she did what she was best at.

they made love in his wife's bed. when the sun came creeping over the crevices of their bodies, she left him with hot, sticky skin and ink on his arm.

"keep running."

this is what she wrote every time. she didn't see herself as a toy for men to play with, but instead a path for them to walk on. sure, it may have led most of them south, but at least it gave them a road.

olivia was on a plane by sunset. aiden hung from a noose in his kitchen.