Noir

My best friend from back home wrote today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know. I stayed up late last night and slept even later today missing the mail. When you are always sleeping, it is easy to lose track of things… especially the mail. Maybe it was yesterday.
My home is in Dallas and I think of it often. I had an electric ice box and a house that was always warm; things are bleaker now. At 10 o’clock the people leave the streets and the cats take over. I like cats, but not the strays. They have a feral side to them, one that domestics lost along the way.
An eternity has passed since I left Dallas. An eternity meaning the end of December. I told my boss that I was leaving soon and that I was giving my two weeks, he didn’t like that. He asked me where I was going and I told him somewhere with fewer stop lights and traffic jams. He asked me where he was going to find someone who worked as hard as I did. I told him that I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything after that.
Women usually find me attractive and intelligent. I like to think it is because of the years spent at the university, but many attribute it to mother. Mother raised us to be gentlemen and to fall fast and hard for women, but that never did me any good. The day after I graduated I left mother in the sunflower fields and went to the city. I never wanted to be the available type.
Women tell men that they like the romantic, nice guy, but that isn’t true. Instead, nice guys get stared at from a distance with stale eyes… as if they were stones or silhouettes of dead trees on a dark hill. Dames just want something to fix. Like I said, I never wanted to be the available type.
Lady luck hasn’t been much of a lady lately. In fact, I would say that she has been nothing more then a cold hearted woman. As her bitter ex-lover, I can’t say I was perfect either. I made decisions that I knew would set her off, but I never thought she would leave. I woke up last Friday to find her red dress hanging in the closet with the skeletons… which means she is currently wearing black. She left me a pot of cold tea next to her gold key and last weeks paper “Extra Extra Springfield DA Cracking Down On Crime In The Streets.” Guess I should hire a lawyer. I am in a tough spot I can’t fix or get out of. Because of that, it doesn’t matter what I think of women or what they think of me. I will be back again when this storm passes, when it all becomes like they say… water under the bridge. Until then you can find me sleeping.
As for now, it is close to eight o’clock. The sky burns green and the blinds cast horizontal shadows against the walls. I didn’t notice. I think I will make a pot of hot tea and start this book I have been meaning to read. Funny how there is always something that needs started. It’s cold outside, but in three hours the only bar in this dying town will be alive despite the weather. I haven’t had a drink in a week. Maybe tonight that will change. Maybe it won’t.
My best friend from back home wrote today. Or maybe it was yesterday.

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Noir

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