“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice reverberates throughout the ballroom, “this last one is a personal favorite.”
As the music cues up, the young couple pulls away from the loud speakers and blinding stage lights, theirs bodies swaying from side to side as they dance slowly on the outskirts of the crowd. They look deeply into each other’s eyes as the young girl wraps her arms around his neck to draw him nearer. She sings along with Berlin softly into his ear,
“Watching I keep waiting still anticipating love
Never hesitating to become the fated ones
Turning and returning to some secret place to hide
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say
“Take my breath away...”
She draws back and smiles, “I love you, Chad Stoper.” He says nothing, and she leans in for a kiss, pressing her lips against his. Unresponsive to the warmth of her mouth, his lips are cold and flat. Pulling back, she gazes upon his faded complexion.
Frozen in time, his 4x6 glass prison is smeared by years of her kisses. A sigh escapes her lips as she gently sets Chad back onto her nightstand next to the jagged stack of romance novels. Quickly crossing the room, she presses rewind on her beloved “Prom 1987” mixed tape so that her ritual can begin without hesitation at 10:00PM again tomorrow.
She sneaks one last glance at Chad and giggles, “Oh, Chad – Stop it! You shouldn’t stare at me like that.” Red floods her cheeks as she bends over to pick up her watering can. The smell of the stagnant water goes unnoticed, and she proceeds to water each of the plastic flower arrangements on her windowsill, a giggle escaping her lips with each miniscule tilt of the watering can. “Oh, my babies… you’re growing so quickly!” She bends forward to press her nose into the dust-covered petals, “And you even smell more mature. I’m such a proud mommy!”
Her stomach suddenly growls, and she immediately sets down the watering can, sloshing water onto the stained carpet. In moments, she has reached the refrigerator and reaches in to grab the last remaining hotdog out of its slimy package. Leaning back against the kitchen sink, she knocks over the pile of mold-encrusted plates as her large arm reaches past to grab the can of spray cheese sitting on the counter.
In a moment of ecstasy, she tilts back her head and empties the can of synthetic cheese into her mouth. She foregoes swallowing, allowing the substance to encase her throat, another chin appearing as she opens her mouth even further to consume the cold, slimy intestine.
Satisfied, she heads back to her bedroom, too focused on the aftertaste in her mouth to notice the cat litter accumulating on the bottom of her socks. She glances at the romance novels sitting on her nightstand, the light reflecting off of the once-matte finish, now covered in a glossy mess of hotdog juice finger prints. She pauses in a moment of consideration, looking from her novels to the ***** on the floor next to her bed.
A yawn escapes her lips.
Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.
She shuffles over to the bed, yanking out a ****** as she climbs on top of the covers.
“Good night, Chad Stoper,” she looks one last time into his eyes, “I love you.”