Nice to Know

40 Years Earlier

Randy sat at the bar, stirring the bubbles out of is soda. He didn't drink, but he knew that's what you were supposed to do when you got your heart broken. He figured he would meet the stereotype half way by sitting in the bar even though all he had was sugar and fizz.

"It's going to go flat." A soft voice warned.

He looked up to see a woman standing behind the bar.

Her hair was a creamy blonde that contrasted with her eyebrows, which were thick and lush. Her eyes were so dark he couldn't differentiate between her pupil and her iris.

She smiled with lips painted a bloody red, but the color seemed out of place among her features, which were proud like a falcon but light as a feather. When she turned her head he saw her nose, a proud arch like the gateway to heaven and her jaw straight like the parting of the red sea. 

He didn't even know what to say.

"But I won't tell you how to live your life." She shrugged her shoulders and continued about her business. 

He just sat there, mouth agape. How was he supposed to say anything to such a goddess? What was she doing in a scummy bar? Or any bar for that matter?

She peeked over at him out of the corner of her eye, but he couldn't help himself. It felt like a disservice to the both of them for him to stop. As she worked her hair moved like a fresh ribbon of milk in coffee. He wanted nothing more than to reach over the bar and feel it. He imagined it sharing the sensation of the hot liquid it resembled on a grey evening. 

She tried to continue with her work, but he knew she could feel it too. There was a spark between them that practically scorched him through. The words burned up his throat, but sizzled out on his tongue. 

No.

It had to be perfect.

As much as it hurt him, he tore his eyes away from her and ran from the bar at a full gallop. He didn't have any time to waist. He needed her, and she needed him. He just knew it. 

The rain coated him in a thick blanket of moisture, but now it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. Nothing could possibly be bad now. Even his tiny shack of a house on the corner of the street looked like the beautiful palace where they would soon start their life together.

 They wouldn't be there long, he had plans. But nowhere they were together, even for a minute, could be anything less than extraordinary. 

He threw the door open and it clattered against the wall, leaving a tiny dent. His lungs were near giving out, athletics had never been his forte. Actually nothing really qualified as his forte, but that didn't matter. He didn't need those things, because he had a secret. 

He walked into his kitchen, dripping water onto the peeling floor. The hatch to the storm shelter was hidden just barely under a rug, and creaked loudly as soon as you stepped on it. 

Taking the key from around his neck he undid the lock and tossed it to the side, listening to it's loud thunk mix with the screech of the old hinges. 

The ladder descended into darkness beneath the house, be he didn't need to see. He placed his feet expertly on the rungs as he pulled the door closed above him. 

When his feet found the soft ground he pivoted 180 degrees and took three steps before getting to his knees right in front of where he knew the alter to be. 

"Master, there's something I need."