A Girl Who Keep on Winning
Here we are. Bathed by the city light under the dirty sky dome polluted by smog and atificial illumination from its beneath. You puff another smoke, I lit another cigs, and we both fell into this comfortable silence.
A roaring sound came from behind us, you turned your head in excitement and I stare at you with a smile on the edge of my lips.
“FD?” I asked.
“FC, bright red. Fucking beast running faster than I thought it could,” she replied, still having the enthusiasm after having a glance over one of Japan’s most popular street machine.
“I know the owner.” I sipped another puff of smoke and let it evaporate with the carbon dioxide from my lungs through the heavy air you all breathe.
“Yeah, once my client asked me to have a ‘chat’ with him.”
“It’s supposed to be you knew who the owner ‘was’,” she replied; annoyed.
“I was just having a chat with him.”
“And how many of your chit-chat partner still alive until today?”
I laughed, and so did she. I stare at those blood red lips again, wondering if she was Snow White on her previous life.
Her jet black hair slipped from her left ear, covering one of her hazel eyes staring straight to my eyes. Like cold steel knife slipped its way through the skin and flesh it cut, my heart stopped before I even get the pain.
Metaphorically, of course.
It hurts because I know how impossible all of these shit.
“Ain’t you afraid of me?” I asked.
“I like you,” she cut my word.
“Even if it costs your life?”
“It’s worth it. After all, my life is the reason why you came to me, no?” she replied with her eyes glancing at my right arm.
“You always let them bargain with a game, right?” she continued her speak.
“Then what’s with this continuous game between us?”
“You keep on winning, and I have to keep my perfect score perfect. You have to go,” I replied.
She kissed me, sudenly. I can feel her tongue licking mine before biting my lips and letting it go.
“This fuckin’ game ain’t no chess, my dear. You have to be fierce IF you want to win,” she purred into my ear.
“That’s a big if,” I whispered.
“I fucking know it,” she said before pushing me to the grass and throwing away my schyte.
Be easy please, I haven’t write since God-knows-when.