Entry #60

The Artist
by Adisha Singh


She had surely felt the adoration in his stare, for that is where her eyes stopped wandering.

The server handed her the drink he had requested. Incidently, the wine was the color of her lips. Her fingers circled the rim of the glass delicately as she contemplated. Then, she decisively motioned him to join her.

Once the initial moments of uncertainty passed, he easily immersed himself into the role of a charismatic prospect.

The conversation flowed. He imagined her tied to the bed, her protests ranging from loud threats to whimpers. His excitement increased exponentially.

He dropped the capsule into the drink just before the last few sips. A flick of the wrist, his favorite magic trick. He paid the bill and patiently watched her down the last few drops.

Her back felt warm as he guided her out. The parking lot was dark. The night, moonless. A few more steps and he would have a new instrument for his concerto.

Suddenly, the world tilted at an impossible angle. Pain seared through his body. His own cries unnatural to his ears. Dust clouded around him where he fell. His mouth contorted with realization.

"You…the glasses!!"

She bent over him. Her eyes sparkled with a vindication, " I even added another party treat. I‘m not surprised you forgot me. Never did believe in Karma, did you? Well, joke’s on you!"

The receding noise of her heels were the final notes of his symphony.