It’s raining outside today. A light drizzle that began around two, and has
kept steadily on for several hours. I ducked into Heritage- even though the prices
are high. I’d rather spend my paycheck on alcoholic drinks with exotic flavors than
my rent, anyway. I’m ordering a third margarita when a man- dressed impeccably
in a tuxedo- sits down across from me at the table. I don’t even have to look away
from the waiter to recognize him. Nathan Greene, the only young man in New York
to still wear a top hat with his suit. I clamp my jaw until the waiter hurries off.
“Why are you still following me?”
Nathan grins and fiddles with the napkin in front of him.
“We didn’t leave on good terms- I’m trying to resolve that.”
“What is there to resolve? I caught you with another woman for the fourth
time- in my bed, I might add.”
I keep my voice lowered- the kind of people that frequent the Heritage would be appalled to hear such a private conversation.
He leans forward, “You know they didn’t mean anything to me.”
“That doesn’t change my mind.”
“I miss you.”
“You can go to hell.”
“I love you, Natalie.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you love me or not. Go away, Nathan. I’m
not getting back together with you.”
I start to rise out of my seat, thoroughly exasperated, and willing to get
soaked in the rain rather than continue the conversation. Nathan grabs my wrist as
I begin to walk away.
“No, Nathan. Let go of my arm.”
“I love you.”
I whip around, grab my unused butter knife resting on the table, and drive
it into his hand that’s around my wrist. He yelps in pain, releasing my wrist and yanking
his hand back towards his chest. I pull the knife out of his hand and set it calmly on the
table. Dark red splatters the pristine white tablecloth and blooms in rivulets out of his wound.
“Argh, what the fuck, Natalie?”
“I told you to let go.”
“You drunk bitch.”
I spin on my heel and plunge the knife in his forearm.
I relish his scream. I watch the red run over his white shirt, I watch it fall off
his arm and blend with the burgundy carpet. The staff rushes over to Nathan, his face
gruesomely contorted with pain, and puts pressure on his hand with a napkin. Somebody calls 911.
They’re too busy to notice me slip out the door into the rain.
Author Notes: Just wanted to post a short somethin'-somethin' :) Please leave any feedback!