Trapped in love. Like butterflies on display, pinned for the pleasure of the owner.
She kept track of his travels on a map on the wall in the kitchen, one pin for each city. It was colorful, that map, as colorful as his stories. With his stories he always brought back souvenirs. Proof, she assumed, of where he'd been.
The soiled panties in his suitcase were also proof. as was the phone number written on a napkin from a downtown hotel.
Here, in town. Not, just to be clear, in the town he said he was in this past week.
He got looks, she knew he got looks. "Ladies all love him, so beautiful he is," a quote she remembered that fit him perfectly. But she thought he loved her, only her. How stupid not to see that the very charm that won her heart came from lots of practice. There had been other incidents, but he'd always talked them away.
She listened to the high-pitched squeal and sent her transmission. Finished by fax, on one of his own sales order forms. She ordered him out, with a guilt upgrade, if he had any in stock.
She stared at the map and felt the many colored pins sticking out of her heart.
---By Carla Blaschka, 12/23/11
Written alongside PurpleMark Wirth at the Elliott Bay Cafe.
Purple Mark's prompts:
- "If you'd like, you can start your transmission after the high-pitched squeel (sic) that will be your cue to make a statement about yourself..." Antero Alli. The Akashic Record Player. (Falcon Press, 1988).
- "Her skin is white cloth, and she's all sewn apart and she has many colored pins sticking out of her heart." Tim Burton. Voodoo Girl: The Melancholy Death Of Oyster Boy And Other Stories. (Rob Weisbach Books, 1997).
- "Then comes at speed Margaris of Seville, who holds his land as far as Cazmarin, ladies all love him, so beautiful he is." Translated by Dorothy L. Sayers. The Song Of Roland. (Penguin Classics, 1964).