Dalliance

C H I C K W E E D

The flowers died on Monday: the cat died that following Tuesday. On the bureau, to the side of the room where the window shredded two large rectangles of light, there was a wilting sunflower head. It had become eerily brown. From the stem came a sweet scent that flooded the room as its occupant returned to the double bed. He perched on the edge speckled in mud and clearly exhausted; under his eyes were two large dark purple bags and his pale skin seemed to mould to his skull as if all flesh had vanished to leave a layer of white skin.

For him, it was just another grave dug and filled in what seemed to the man like mere seconds. It wasn't his first cat or his first burial; he supposed it wouldn't be his last in his extended lifetime. He sniffed and then wiped his nose against his forearm in a spot that to him was clean enough, before unbuttoning his shirt. He knocked his head to one side and peered at the digital clock, he had an hour until his shift started at the lab.

He supposed that the death of his late cat was a good enough excuse to be twenty minutes late as he changed the deep purple shirt for a blood red one, which he snatched greedily out of his wardrobe. Hunger had begun to set in his bones as he replaced jeans with slacks and stuffed his personal artifacts into a duffel.

Before stepping out of the Victorian city house he dashed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He moved round several bottles of wines and a pack of Marlboros that really had no reason to be sat in the fridge and snatched at one of the remaining pouches at the back. Normal he would allow the red liquid to sit out for a few minutes so it would be a little warmer than if he drank straight out of the fridge but today was not that day. He felt the constriction and pull of it, his body seeming to move by impulse rather than by will, he felt the familiar pain in his gums as his canines pulled out of the rather human shape to resemble stilettos. The points made it hard for his lips to stay sealed as they dug into the surface of his mouth; he opened wide as the plastic of the bag became an obstacle that was easily defeated by the four fangs that dug into the plastic.

It was a salivating flood of red that leaked into his mouth, a cocktail of truth and the very liqueur of life itself. He moaned into the plastic slowly draining it as he felt warmth and life rejuvenate his cold dead skin. With some aggression he slapped the plastic pouch down and began to stretch with feline like grace as he left once again for the empty hallway.

He grabbed his keys from the hangers and shrugged on his lab coat making sure to click on his badge before sliding into the black dress coat. The house did not notice his departure and made no effort to say goodbye as the door clicked closed, shaking the foundations of the white house. He pulled at his BMW's door and slid into the driver's seat, rolling up his sleeves he swears under his breath at the muddy marks still up his arms and no doubt on his face. He guessed he would be having a longer stay in the locker room; he put his foot down and drove down and into the heart of the city.

The hospital appeared, rising up into a bare area of the city, it was old made of heavy red brick walls and concrete. He drove past these old things that were barely even a quarter the age of him and went for a more modern building. It was a monolith of what science meant. The glass forced out panes of white light onto the pavement and as he parked he became increasingly tired and fed up. He could feel the encroaching loneliness in his heart.

The locker rooms for lab 3 were down the hall near the large fridges full of organs and blood and an array of other samples. It was like any other locker room or he supposed it was. The doors slid open to reveal the dark and cosy interior that was juxtaposed by the white outside. On one side three little dorms filled with single beds with two occupied and then an array of normal locker room things like lockers and mirrors. The man grimaced at his reflection as he went to locker 156B, he unlocked it and had a nosy, and nothing had been added since yesterday. He then threw in the duffle and locked it. The door slammed against its metal frame.