#82 Lipstick

by Carl Tese

I’ve been looking for her everywhere. Tonight I’m heading to Chinatown. I turn the corner into a famous alley and stop dead in my tracks.

There she is.

She’s standing in a doorway partially illuminated by a single light bulb. After all this time looking for her, she has finally crossed my path. I flash on memories of those incendiary nights. She will give me what I crave. I walk up and stand in front of her, ready to say something but stop as she opens her purse. I smile in anticipation of watching her put on her lipstick. She reaches in, pulls out her hand and with three quick, precise strokes leaves the stiletto buried to the hilt in my chest. I drop right over. I lay there with my cheek crushed on the street, the blood making rivulets in the cobblestones.

I twist my head around and see her putting on her lipstick now, slow and deliberate. Using her mirror to check that everything is just so. Taking her time. She’s enjoying this, watching my life ooze away. When she’s finally satisfied, she drops the compact and lipstick in her purse. Then she pulls out a handkerchief and blots her lips. She tosses it in on the street right in front of my face. My lips are close enough to kiss her print. She looks down at me, her eyes blazing with malice and contempt, then hisses, “Finally you fuck. She was my sister.”

2 comments:

Deb said...

Revenge is sweet. Well done.

Anonymous said...

This has a nice gritty feel to it....