Flash Fiction - "No More"

I try to wash you from my skin in the night air. The vile stench of you consists mostly of Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion the likes of which I gave my ex one time, because I thought that she would smell beautiful. She did. So do you, in that way that fragile things are beautiful. I shouldn't nuzzle into the pools of your clavicle anymore.

"Don't think about how it would taste, that lotion, under your quivering tongue."

Like the bitter silk of a lavender tea.

I pump my petals, urging myself forward through the drizzle which can only be perceived around the edges of Four A.M.'s nitid street lamps. The cool summer air touches me like I want to be touched. It slowly tugs at the sides of my clothing, the night's hands clutching to the cotton through its night terrors. And it nests itself on my breast.

I try to rid you forever from my skin, but can't with my senses ensnared.

"Don't think about what she did. Don't think about what you're doing."

I sit up a long time before going to bed thinking about my designated distraction, how convenience was a god at whose alter I knelt. Then, kicking off my shoes, I quoth "no more."

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - only this, and nothing more."

Be that word our sign of parting,

Caleb

P.S. nitid - bright, lustrous

Yassou!

The beeping of my dying cellphone has finally left my room. It's strange, the silence that has fallen now. Whereas before, while I was setting up my profile and such, the noises drifting around my head were measured by the once every other minute bleat of Dad's old silver Motorola. The cars on the highway, the overhead fan, and the various chat program blips have no law about them now. I think that I liked it better when my thoughts were interrupted, and forced into segments.

I quit much of social networking two calendar days ago at the early Monday time of this posting. I don't miss it. I'm determined now more than ever to change my life for the better, and Saturday it was kicked off with the Greeks' "yassou!"

Greek pastries are delightful, how they sort of fall into your mouth. Gyros are kind of wieldy with or without their foil, like the little kids that I got to play with, brothers of a friend. They were nice little chaps, but I wouldn't trust them with the cleanliness of my shirt. I suppose getting onion all over myself was my fault, but that's that. Friends, movies, a decidedly good day.

Today, well, yesterday now, I rode my bike to a friend's. The gears worry me a bit. I don't like how they make sounds when I shift, but that's that. It was beautiful, and I imagine that I'm in that one old Disney cartoon, the one where a character is walking down a path whistling, and everything around him dances and has a smile. I can't for the life of me remember which character was in it, though I could whistle you the tune. I have spent the better part of an hour looking to no avail. There's a new pizza place on 3rd Street in New Cumberland, in that retail spot where pizza places go to die. I suggest stopping in before it goes too. Delicious and cheap.

I'm going to wake up early today, and go to a temp agency as a part of this whole renovation project on myself. It worries me, but a lot of things worry me - money, women etc. Let us hope for something better, some change, something new.

Regards,

Caleb

P.S. edetic - Marked by or involving extraordinarily accurate and exacting recall especially of visual images.