Working backwards, JP figured he’d left the folder with Mal and Otto. Who knew where it was if it not there. It had to be. He was sure. Well, reasonably certain.
JP grabbed his bag. He could get to their office in less than thirty minutes, and use that time to plan what to do if the folder was truly lost. Deja vu hit soon as he got in the Uber. JP took a moment to place the feeling. It was the smell that had struck him. Summer Linen fragrance from the Little Tree air freshener. This was a distinctive enough aroma, like juicy fruit gum, or a particular cigar. At least once before he’d been in an Uber with this scent, rushing to find something misplaced. It had to be. He was sure. Well, reasonably certain
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No, she hadn’t brought her own pen. “Why would I bring my own pen to fill out a police report?” she asked.
“Technically this isn’t a police report,” the officer corrected. “If this was a missing bike, I could fill out a report. But since this is a …” “—a missing unicycle,” Tracey filled in. “Yes, exactly. Since it’s not a bicycle it’s categorized differently.” She sighed. The officer gritted his teeth. “I have to ask, and only because it’s standard procedure, but do you know of anyone with a reason to steal your, um …” “Steal my unicycle?” Why can’t he say the word? Unicycle isn’t a 4-letter word. She had no idea who stole it. Tracey didn’t really know anyone in this city except Miles. And he was probably still sleeping off the previous night. This city was the eighth (and now, likely the last) stop on the world tour of The Ones! Miles was a one-man band, and she rode around on one-wheel. Together they took turns telling one-liners. A verifiable throwback act, they played any venue that would take them: comedy clubs, fundraisers, birthday parties, street corners. Once Edward (Miles’ cousin and their manager) booked them for a dinner cruise, but ocean swells proved too much for the unicycle. So far they’d traveled each city through CouchSurfing, a website where they coordinated free stays on the couches and futons of fellow artists and friendly strangers. For this city, they crashed on blow-up mattresses in the living room of a Tim and Paul —better known as the folk duo Cloud and Leopard. For her own safety, Tracey wouldn’t stay with strangers unless she traveled with Miles. He was over six-foot and could be imposing if needed. Her most menacing feature was a neck tattoo usually covered by a scarf. Last night after getting booed offstage, they met up with Cloud and Leopard at a local bar. Paul and Miles went shot-for-shot. Miles declared his love for Tracey, kissed her neck tattoo, and then kissed Tim’s girlfriend. Tracey stormed out. Drunk or sober, she didn’t feel that way about Miles. This morning Tracey got up first. She cycled downtown, and locked her bike outside of a diner. Exiting she found only the wheel chained to bike lock. After filing the Miscellaneous Missing Objects Report with the officer, Tracey went outside and texted Miles the bad news. He texted back immediately. He was soooooo sorry about last night, he hoped he hadn’t ruined The Ones, and promised to buy her a new unicycle that day.
“Soon. Soon.” Mr. Nercessian squinted and rubbed his temples. Josie held her breath and looked over at Franklin. He was still asleep under an afghan on the couch. It had been nearly an hour since he stirred. His breathing was slow but steady. Mr. Nercessian closed his eyes for moment. “How soon?” asked Josie. He reopened his eyes. She waited for what must have been two full minutes before prompting him, asking, “Have you ever done this before?” Mr. Nercessian stood and took a few steps towards the kitchen. “Yes,” he answered, “for my own husband.”
She heard him filling a kettle in the kitchen, and heard a siren from far away. Franklin clutched the blanket closer. Josie looked at him and then out the living room window. It was already dark, but a streetlight illuminated a few trees in front of the brick wall across the street. Something stirred the leaves among the base of the trees. It sounded like a stray dog, but Josie knew that was impossible. Mr. Nercessian returned with tea. “Tell me about your husband," said Josie. He sighed. “He wasn’t a very good man before all this began. We hadn’t been married very long. Like a lot of people, he tried to get used to everything until it seemed normal. Then we heard they killed his sister, a college professor. They just carried her off. Her husband, my brother-in-law, and kids disappeared soon after. We learned the resistance was protecting them, and my husband joined the resistance for a few years. They killed him right there, right across the street. His crew brought his body back to me. I’ve learned a lot since then. It doesn’t work if They touch somebody first.” He had spoken slowly. Josie had finished her tea. “They didn’t touch him. I made sure of that,” she said. Mr. Nercessian nodded and poured him another cup, explaining, “I know. I could tell that much. He wouldn’t be breathing again if They’d touched him.” A few hours passed. Neither could sleep. “Are you ready for the last part?” he asked. She nodded. “There’s a dog across the street, by those trees. Bring it here,” he instructed. Josie put the regulator in her mouth and went outside. The air was always thicker at night, and it slowed her progress. And there, across the street, at the base of the tree was a small dog, with matted hair. Some kind of terrier-mix, maybe. It was hard to tell. She bent down and ran her thumb across her other fingers to call the dog. Craving affection, the dog climbed into her arms. A siren sounded again. This time closer. Maybe only a block away. She clutched the pup and ran towards the house. The air became thicker. The regulator wouldn’t be effective if it thickened much more. They appeared in the street. Mr. Nercessian came outside and yelled gibberish at them. They floated towards him. One reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He collapsed. They disappeared. The air lightened and Josie rushed to him, he was so frail that she could hoist him up with one arm. She brought him inside and placed him on the armchair. Josie starred at Mr. Nercessian. His face thin and tired. He must have known. The pup yelped, so she put it on the floor. She watched as the dog went over to Franklin, and licked the tips of his fingers. Franklin opened his eyes. He opened his mouth by no sound came out. Josie held his hand. The siren sounded again. COMING SOONCheck back soon for my first post .... more details for come! For more info about the project, checkout the write-up at The Great Discontent: https://thegreatdiscontent.com/100days |
About meI’m a producer, writer and storyteller with expertise in digital, print, film, TV & stage productions Archives
March 2018
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