Dating : Dinner Time

Dinner Time

The food was average as always. Henry rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. Sniffing it. The smell. Something curiously delightful about that smell.

The hour’s getting close. Bassel will be wanting the playbook soon. “How’s it going to be Henry” he’d say. “What’s when the bears’ll come out.” Such a worrier. Press the buttons. They play a song. “C” is for chant. “D” is for dragging. “E” is for electric. It’ll be the only song they’re here for. The gathering.

The gathering. I could feel ’em, their energy. Youth and vigour. Nothing like some young hormones whisked away. Another night. Another predictable night. At least the reward is there. Ever-real, ever-longing. Both of us worked hard toward this night.

Tonight there was going to be one. A special one. Been following her on the net. Looks sad. Perfectly sad and ripe for the reaping. Father had passed and she’d been banging on about her damn cat. She’s a recorder. Damn recorders. Illegal and irritating especially if all goes to shit. The law intervenes and those recorder-types whip out the memories they stole. Keep them for self-gratification.

Self-gratification… Hmmm…

…end 11. Visit 1.