At Least They're Committed

“Wow,“ he sits on the edge of the bed staring forward.

“Yeah,” says the other.

“She is PISSED!!!”

“Uh-huh.” They don’t look at each other when they talk, staring instead directly forward at a silhouette pacing, pacing, pacing.

“You know, it’s the law of things, if you’re too nice you get taken advantage of,” says the first.

“Yup,” says the second.

“Think maybe she’ll learn this time?”

“Nope,” he says. “She’ll move on, for sure, but someone will find some way to take advantage of her again.”

“Too trusting . . .”

“Not really; too kind.”

“She’s standing in the temple,” he says, despite watching her pace.

“Yes,” he says. “But she’ll simply stand. I asked her to. I told her I’d take care of it.”

The first quickly turns and stares at the second, apprehension crosses his eyes and he chokes, “You? Really? What are you going to do?”

The silhouette disappears and the second turns to the first, both consumed now in a piercing light, then fading to gray . . . and then black. The silence is long, the tension swells until at last the second says, “Well, she did make me promise not to kill their first borns,” his smile breaks white through the endless night.

The first sighs hard and heavy in the dark. “And otherwise?”

“Anything goes.”