In Vino Veritas, In Tequila Mors
by Cormac Brown
I am undone.
I am undone by a pair of lips.
By a kiss.
By a whisper.
I believe that Adam was just an allegory. Because if he were a real man, he’d say “all that from just a rib? Well, God, why don’t you take out the other one and even me out?”
I wanted it all, and at least in terms of money, I could afford it. Something about her was different…I still don’t know what it was. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful or intelligent…or even charming. Yet she had enough of each of those qualities to keep me intrigued, just like my wife did when we first met in college.
It was a casual friendship that turned into something else before either of us knew what happened. We meshed together. I felt like a new man, and I expanded the horizons of her future. Our relationship took on a life of its own and soon discretion went out of the window as we traveled together.
Eventually, reality reared its ugly head and this “second honeymoon” was over. Things became too intense and I wanted out, and to buy her out. We drank; we fought…until we were exhausted. Finally, I asked her to leave the love nest we made…
…and I kissed her.
I whispered, “Goodbye.”
I thought she went to pack, but she went for a gun instead.
I am undone.
Now we won’t worry about fidelity…our future…or anything, because we’re going to sleep for all of eternity.
[Cormac writes: I’m Cormac Brown, an up-and-slumming writer in the city of Saint Francis. Some of my stories have appeared at Powder Burn Flash, Six Sentences, A Twist of Noir, Astonishing Adventures Magazine, and Crooked Magazine. You can find me at Cormac Writes.]