It always has to be a Wednesday. 10:15 in the morning sharp. You unlock the door leading into your shabby studio, leaving a hint of citrus and lemon there. The after-shower ritual of letting the cheap eau de cologne trickle down from the top of your head has turned into a habit. Cheap, nonetheless, it is what Lucy likes.
You cannot manage to grow a decent beard yet but put on a button-down shirt. You want to impress Lucy. You want to present yourself as a man to her. Her husband, about twenty years older than you, would be in his fancy suit now. He is doing whatever important people do, stroking his mature beard. His beard was very well-kempt in the picture Lucy showed you. He even knows how to wear a tie properly.
You throw your wrinkled uniform polo shirt under the bed. Sometimes that shirt feels way too big for you.
The door creaks, as if trying to hide a certain ecstasy in its undertone. Lucy walks in. She is wearing a sweatshirt as always. She is supposed to be at the gym after dropping her daughter off. You say hi. Lucy does not care to compliment your shirt or cologne anymore.
You and Lucy collapse into the bed. She fucks you without many words or groans. You are still wearing the button-down shirt. Then she goes, leaving the butt of a cigarette on the ashtray you bought a few weeks ago. You do not smoke. You also bought matches for her.
Lucy has just left. You still have many hours till you hit the retail shop where you work. You do not want to wear that uniform yet. Now you are thinking, for a second. Maybe it is not about fucking for fuck’s sake. Maybe there are some feelings, some longings lingering within you and Lucy. Lucy will drive to the gym, take a shower, pick her daughter up, and then go back home. You storm out. You almost forgot to put your pants back on.
Lucy is in your sight. That is odd. Anyways, you can spot Lucy right away. Pretty far, nevertheless, she is not driving. Lucy is walking somewhere. She did not bring her car. You follow Lucy, not knowing what to tell her if you do catch up with her. You feel uneasy and end up walking behind her for half an hour, in secret.
A pack of cigarettes drops out of her hip pocket. You rush. Lucy makes a sudden turn and enters a building. You stop running at the facade of the building. You look up, catching your breath. You can tell, that the inside of it would be even shittier than your studio.
You turn around, and go back. You notice Lucy’s car on the way. Tree leaves are on it, many of them dry and brown, some closer to grey. The pack of cigarettes is next to it, on the ground. You thought Lucy was attractive. Now you are reminded of her odd body odor, broken nails, pale lips, and dull hair. You feel betrayed.
But would you have been interested in Lucy, had she not lied about her husband and kid?
You come back home. You light up a cigarette of Lucy’s. It tastes terribly bitter. You cough and cough and cough, till you cry.
You, all of a sudden, feel like a grown-up man.
The flash fiction above first appeared in Hare’s Paw Literary Journal, Issue 14.
If you enjoyed my work, you can buy me a cup of tea. I am not a coffee person, by the way.
Well done, Hyun Woo.