Everyday he came to the same spot to stand and stare into the mirror. His reflection showed him an unshaven face, haggard eyes and drooping shoulders. Like life had beaten the shit out of him and he was still taking more hits than he could possibly handle. His wife had left him six months ago taking their daughter along. Her parents had never liked him. Always the sniping remark subtly concealed with concern and worry. The thin line had been treaded very carefully, just the right hint of disdain, never too much. It didn’t matter, he felt like a jackass anyway, unworthy of them and their daughter.

Now she was gone and with her his Candice, blonde and blue -eyed. The eyes he had given her. The hair was a throwback from her genes. All the Amsworth family had black eyes, never blue so his Candice stood out like a flame amongst all the black haired cousins. She was his beacon and she had been snuffed out from his life.

A decision, a choice, made unwisely and you are made to suffer endlessly for it. His choice had been to start the meth lab. Make the money whilst you can. Hiding it had been easy. Keeping it afloat harder. And it was so easy to sell too. His reflection had begun to look better. He was the picture of health, eyes bright and shoulders holding strong too. The profits had come in quick. He had finally bought her that necklace she had been yearning for. Candice had worn the best clothes.

Then the questions had started. He hadn’t given the right answers. His mistake. One minute is all it takes really, for a life to get turned upside down.

It had been for a while to be honest. 8 long years of going around. She was almost on the verge of giving up, you know, like that movie Jennifer Aniston was in, what’s it called, oh yeah, ‘He’s Not That Into You’. But Ben, her Ben, was no Ben Affleck for sure. He was slightly plump, the short fuzz hid the baldness and yet that dimpled smile was what had kept her going. That and the $8 million inheritance he was gonna get when his parents popped off!

Ok ok, popped off is harsh. When they moved on..there, does that sound better? Also, she wasn’t getting any younger you know. Almost hitting 30!! Biological clock ticking away like crazy. She kept wondering when he would pop the question. Didn’t have the guts to ask him straight out. Could not even dream of moving on if she had to dump him. And that ‘if’ was a BIG one!

And today he told her there was a surprise. He had blindfolded her and brought her downstairs. At the last step she hesitated, surprising herself.

He turned around and asked her, ‘What’s wrong?’. ‘Nothing’, she said. ‘Well come on then…’ he said..’Your surprise is waiting for you.’

The scene was set. The location was perfect. The lights and sound were ready to go. Herbert was slightly nervous as Kevin was somewhat of a newbie. He of course didn’t show it. He could not afford to. Paramount was backing him and well it was time that he delivered.

Kevin stepped out of his vanity van. He had been preparing for days for this. Even to the extent of sticking it out with teenagers in a high school!! Method acting was the way ahead, he knew it.

He was ready. Gestured to the director, sitting behind the camera. Kenny Loggins voice filled the air.

Herbert yelled, ‘Action’.

Kevin let loose with all he had to the strains of ‘Footloose’.

<I got inspired from this video of Kevin Bacon dancing his ass off and all names come from the Wikipedia page. This is a contrived post to some extent but the moment I saw the windows I knew I had to write this>

Or did it? I always thought her smile was somewhat half-done as if she hid herself behind it. Her hair blonde, (sometimes I thought peroxide) used to fly in the cool summer breeze. Her dresses were always summery, flirting at the knees. She used to walk with a stride, semi-confident as if waiting for the cruel cruel world to strike its blow.

She and me, we had been together awhile. I had thought about growing old with her but the idea just wasn’t catching on too much. My mind said one thing and my body something else altogether. I liked her but not enough.

She never asked though, I’ll give her that. Just smiled that smile of hers with her teeth glinting white making my heart shift uncomfortably.

Then one day, I walked back to an empty house. All her belongings gone.

The new one, she is brunette and smiles like she owns the world. She wears flashy red mini-skirts and tube tops. She walks with a stride so confident, everyone turns around and stares.

I have a problem though – the memory of that smile still lingers occasionally….

She had been making out under the blanket of stars ever since she could remember. Well, maybe when she turned 15, just to keep things real. The boys, they were never really of a particular type. Red-haired, brunettes, tall, short – all sorts. She never went for the fat ones though post the Randall incident (He had squished her in a moment of passion you see!)

Her mama was an alcoholic. Her step-dad was a no-good sob and always leched at her. They called her names behind her back. ‘Whore’, ‘slut’, ‘skank’. The names didn’t affect her so much. And with the boys, sometimes, it was fun, other times utterly boring – ‘I mean, like seriously someone’s gotta learn how to use their tongue there!’

This time, she instinctively knew was different. Micky (née Michelle) wore Goth but had the face of an angel – all baby blue eyes and dyed black hair. Her touch was gentle and sweet – a woman’s touch. All that leather and yet such softness to the skin.

She closed her eyes and let her universe implode around her.

is in the eyes. You don’t stare. You don’t see. You just get the hell outta there and walk away from what used to be.

You make love. You shed a few tears. You move on.

You know that some mistakes repeat themselves and make peace with that.

And sometimes, maybe, just sometimes, you learn & you grow.

The old wine in the new bottle trick ceases to amaze you. You don’t fight the same ole battles anymore. You relish the thought of being alone.

And then one day, the love-bolt from the blue strikes again. The circle starts anew.

Her skin was alabaster pale against the scarlet sheets. The air was redolent with the smell of sweat and sex.

He lay on his side without looking in her direction.

She took a cigar out of the holder and lit it. The pungent smell of the Cuban inflicted itself on the warm air in the bedroom.

She raised her hand and ran it across his lower back possessively, ‘Coffee?’ she asked.

He shook his head, the movement barely discernible with his glossy blonde hair shimmering in the half lit room.

She rose from the bed, the sheet falling off her body and headed towards the kitchen. Black coffee simmered hot and fresh. The cups and saucers had been left freshly washed for her. The maid always knew what to expect when she wore that lil red number, she smilingly thought to herself.

She poured out the coffee into two cups and took them out on a tray with the spoons entwined.

She stopped at the bedside and asked again, ‘Coffee cher?’ The boy looked up at her, his near black eyes glowing with dislike. ‘I said no, how many times should I say no to you? Last night was bad enough!’

She took a step back. She hadn’t expected this. Last night had started harmlessly enough. A one night stand – some fun, flirting, sex. Just a girl having some fun. Simple right?

Apparently not. The coffee tray fell as if in slow motion. Her fangs came out as she leapt on the boy.

‘Mooncherrypie’, he cried out…she didn’t even look behind. It was her special name, something he had invented for her.

She tossed her long black hair and stopped. His heart skipped a beat. ‘Would she turn and acknowledge him and his love?’

She did turn around but all she did was glare. Stared through him as he was nothing – all those hot, summer nights passed into oblivion in that instant.

She ran out of the store clutching her dress as it fanned out around her legs.

Tick tock went the clock into the silence that surrounded him..