A quick one - Fiction in a Flash

Her eyes. Like quicksand. They pull me in, won’t let me go. I desperately want to look away. Someone throw me a rope. My hands shake. A horn honks. The crowd jostles. Still her gaze holds mine. Years dreaming, wishing, but knowing. Always knowing. I can’t. I just can’t. Reality sears. It does. Scars don’t fade. And I am scarred. How did she recognize me? How did her eyes find mine? And why, oh why, now?

“Illusion seldom turns into reality,” I say.

“You’re saying we were only an illusion.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No, I’m saying I was. I was never going to be who you thought I was or imagined I was. It’s better this way.”

“I never expected… Never wanted…”

I shake my head in reply. She did. They all did. They put me on a pedestal. Expect me to be superhuman, Wonder Woman. Fucking Allison TenBrink. They want the myth, the legend, the childhood fantasy. Sooner or later, they wake up with Allie, imperfect, cowardly, human Allie. And they leave.

It’s better this way, I tell myself over again. What if I ended up killing her, too? What then?

“El…” Her name on my lips. I stop myself. I can’t say it.

She leans in. Hand on my arm. Her lips brush mine. Then her tongue. I need to resist. Need to pull back. I am too weak and I want her too badly, miss her too much. My tongue finds hers. She stops, turns, walks away. I watch her retreat into the yellow glow and revelry of a Saturday night on 5th Street. I want to speak, wish I could speak. I am a coward.

I walk into the bar. It’s time to work. I find a bottle and a shot glass. I seldom drink anymore.

“So, that’s her,” a voice says. I neither confirm nor deny. I pour another shot, down it, and put the bottle back in its place.