Page 2 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
She giggles and my ears enjoy the tender sound coming from her. “Who said it’s a date?”
Nothing like a back-and-forth flowing conversation. “It might turn out to be one.”
“Confident.” She goes silent again. “I’ll be on the dance floor. Let’s see if you can find me when the lights are on.”
That’s my kind of party. “I like a good challenge.”
“Not unless I find you first.” She comments in a teasing tone. “I think your accent will give you away.” A tiny setback I can work on.
Good thing she can’t see the joker-grin on my face. “I’ll stay mute just for you.”
“Game on, stranger.” Her heels click on the floor as she walks away. “Australian accents are my weakness.” That last note is like an invitation to a man like me who will show her exactly what kind of weaknesses she’ll gain around him.
I manage to scoop my phone back up. The flashlight reveals the ginger strands swaying along her back. The skinny jeans that are hugging her bouncing ass and slim legs. And a hint of a tattoo painting her right hand.
Making my way to where I was initially supposed to go, I shake the previous moment and focus on the task at hand.
Ronnie stands beside the electrical panel with Sam our on-call electrician who lives nearby, “You good here, mate?” I tap on Ronnie’s shoulder to make my appearance known next to him.
“Seems like it was a problem on the entire street but should be good now.” Sam flicks a few buttons, and the sudden return of the lights stings our eyes as we adjust to it again.
“Thanks for coming in on short notice,” Ronnie replies.
We shake hands and I thank him as well. “No problem. Have a great night.”
“Let’s check the club to see how everyone is doing.” By that, I mean the woman I just came across. She left her mark. Impression. Whatever it was—she got my attention.
The lights are back on, and so is the life of the patrons rolling in and partying.
No sign of gingery locks amongst the crowd.
Not even one woman.
She left.
A half-grin decorates my face as I contemplate the chain of events, dragging my thumb across my lips until a chuckle overtakes me.
Entrancing plot twist. Definitely didn’t see that one coming.
“Come on, Ronnie. Drinks on me.”
Luka
Present day
Asakid,myimagination always ran wild.
My brain came up with sketches that rendered me speechless. It’s like I perceived the world through a different lens when it came to drawing.
Darkness lured me. The deeper I let it consume me the deeper my soul painted black. Shadows have some sort of appeal. It’s hard to withdraw once you get caught up in their webs.
When my demons crawl out of their pits, I let them. I channel them to a positive route. Not a destructive path. I turn the pain and madness into art.
I feel comfortable. Artistic. Liberated. It’s where I release the clutch and off I go.
Sinful thoughts can create a masterpiece. A masterpiece is madness. It’s when you let your demons, secrets, and fantasies slip out of their cages and turn to something unforeseen. Climb to the peak of the mountain but don’t stop there, fucking jump.
Embrace the unknown. Let lines blur. Cross the limitations everyone else sets to trap you.
