Page 589 of One More Kiss

To Be Continued;

Skye Turner

Chapter1

Kristee

With one final glance around my apartment, my eyes lock on the sealed white envelope on the small secondhand table directly across from the front door. Sighing, I turn toward the door. The knob feels cold beneath my hand as I open it and step out into the hallway. The wooden floor is old, but polished so that it gleams. Even the shine can’t hide the wear and tear from the years of tenants and their guests though.

The hall light flickers, another sign of the age of this still somehow beautiful building, as I pull door 207-A closed behind me. I’m going to miss this place.

My footsteps seem to echo as I walk down the hallway to the stairwell. The door creaks loudly, almost as if in protest, as I open it and start my trek to the first level. Sure, there’s an elevator. It even works about seventy percent of the time, but I never take it.

What’s the point? I live on the second floor.

My mind wanders a bit as I slowly take the stairs down, one by one, placing both feet on each step before moving down to the next.

As I reach the bottom, the noise from the busy street outside can be heard through the glass and wooden doors that lead into the small lobby area of the apartment building I’ve called home for the past few years. Looking at the wall across from the stairwell and seeing the rows of mailboxes, I scan my eyes over the wall as if I don’t know where my box is. I do. Out of habit, I check it every single day when I get home from work. But I didn’t earlier. And I don’t feel the need to check it now either.

Shrugging to myself, I push the door open and walk outside, into the steamy night. It’s summer… in Louisiana. So, it’s hot. It’s always hot. Summer here is akin to the bowels of Hell. The oppressive heat and insane humidity literally steal your breath the second you leave the blessed coolness of artificial air conditioning in any building. Your skin is immediately sticky, and even if you’ve just showered, you just feel… gross.

Something one of my teachers from high school used to say pops into my head. “Women don’t sweat. We glisten.”

That’s a load of bullshit. In Louisiana, you sweat. Straight up. Woman, man, or whatever people identify as these days… we sweat.

As if in agreement with my sentiment, I feel the beads of moisture form on my upper lip, in my hairline, on the back of my neck, and under my boobs. Places that shouldn’t even have sweat glands are already damp.

So, glisten my ass.

Another thought about the heat and what happens because of it enters my head, but I immediately shake it off.

That won’t be my problem.

There’s no point in even thinking about it.

It doesn’t matter. At least, not to me.

A man on the sidewalk bumps right into me, as though he doesn’t even see me. To really drive home the point, he simply keeps walking. No, “Excuse me.” No, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Not even a “Watch where the hell you’re going.” Nothing.

A wry laugh escapes me, and I shake my head before continuing on my trek to my destination. The river is only five blocks away. It won’t take me long to reach it.

Looking up at the sky, the colors of the sunset catch my eye. Stopping for a moment, I just watch as the last of the blue from the day starts to fade, being swallowed by the lavenders, pinks, and oranges spreading upwards of the horizon. Beneath the beautiful colors, I can see the incoming darkness. The black of night dances along the horizon, awaiting it’s time to consume the sky, shrouding everything underneath it in shadows.

The darkness is my solace.

Standing perfectly still in the middle of the sidewalk, as though I’m invisible, I watch until the last of the colors fade from the sky. Once the darkness fully descends, I continue on my journey.

Asher

The colors of the setting sun are stunning as I sit atop the levee on one of the red metal benches. My guitar is in my hands and my case is open at my feet. I was playing, absorbed in the music, lost in the melody, when the vibrance of the departing day distracted me.

I’m on the eastern bank of the river and the sun sets to the west. From here it almost appears as if the sun is being swallowed by the ground on the western bank. The almost neon colors reflect on the surface of the Mississippi River before softly fading to pastels. It’s beautiful… like a painting.

When I see things like this, where the beauty of nature shines in all of her glory, it’s almost easy to forget the harsh realities and the ugliness of the world. Almost…

I sit, watching the sky, completely alone, lost in my solitude for the longest time. Out here is one of the few places I feel free. This place calms my mind, allows me to breathe and to focus. When I watch the sun, the chaos within my head seems to quell. Even it can’t detract from the beauty.

But once she sets and my mind is no longer occupied, the darkness makes itself known.

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