Murder without Result

The wind chilled him and snow melted in his ever-less red hair as he drew his black corduroy jacket around him. His shoulders felt heavy with the workout they had just endured. It was his favorite workout. No matter how overweight he might be at the moment, whenever he had his shoulder day at the gym he felt more masculine, even sexier, than at any other time. The feeling quickly shifted as he neared the outdoor elevator that went to the parking garage. Standing in the doorway stood a tall, model-perfect specimen of the male species. At the moment, his ever-pouty lips were pressed passionately over the mouth of an adorably petite blond. Whirls of snow streamed around them as his hands made their way down her back and found their home cupping her tight ass.
Giving a tug on his jacket yet again, he changed directions. He had no desire to see some beautiful couple make out in his elevator; he doubted they would have been too thrilled over the intrusions either. He made his way to the stairs, walked down the two flights, got into his car, paid the parking fee, and left the two nearly procreating beauties far behind.
He was heading to his favorite coffee shop. He knew he should head home, the snow was starting to stick, his car could barely make it in a stiff breeze, let alone in this mess. Still, there was not a chance in Hell he was willing to go home and turn in for the evening. It was only four! Fates be damned!
As he rounded the corner of his coffee shop, his eyes narrowed as he spotted something in the street. A low growl escaped his gritted teeth as he recognized the figure. He shoved his foot on the gas and the car charged forward. The car only jumped slightly at the impact; still the thud sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. After parking, he experienced a moment hesitation. What if it had been someone’s little toddler out lost in the snow? Couldn’t have been. He was certain he had caught the shimmering glimpse of wings and a little bow and arrow set hung from the diapers. Well, pretty certain. Either way, if there was even a chance, that little fucker deserved to die.
His reservations over his choice continued to grow as he sat down with his Mayan Mocha and his laptop and realized it was still Valentine’s Day. If the Grinch couldn’t stop Christmas, it may have been a bit of a stretch to think he would have the power to end this holiday, lame as it may be.
As he began to write, his mind floated to unwanted places. To be honest, this day wasn’t as hard as he had expected it to be. Teaching all day had been a welcome distraction. He hadn’t even cried, didn’t even feel like he was going to. Still, he wondered. Sure, they had been broken up for eight months, but did the boy think about him today? Had he wondered what it might have been like if they had stayed together? Did he send any good thoughts towards him? Did he smile at a fond memory? Did he at least know he was loved and take some peace in that? Did he even cross his mind?
He was nearly done writing and began to ponder what to do that evening. He quickly checked the horoscope: “Someone is only thinking about you tonight. Be with them, enjoy your Valentine’s Day.” Great! Yeah, that was helpful, thanks! Ok, need to plan so that chipperness remains… Leave the coffee shop. Ok, brainiac, that was difficult! Try harder…. Go by the dirty bakery on the way home and order a homoerotic cake for his friend’s birthday. Shit, maybe even pick up a little dirty cake of his own. He may not be making love with the man he adored, but he could still eat the symbol of all masculinity—covered in chocolate icing at that, might even be better than the real thing.
Then, go home, order in Chinese, Pizza Hut, or Sonic. Snuggle on the couch with his Corgis, and watch five or six hours of Charmed.
As Faith Hill’s song ‘Paris’ came on his Ipod as he typed the word Charmed, pain shot through him. This was the song he had planned to play when he and the boy went to Paris one day. He was going to rent out a rooftop café, have diner there, and then dance to this song with the Eifel Tower lit up through the misty night.
His eyes misty, he smiled. No, he would not spend the night with the man he wished he could, but he had the memory of a love that he not experienced the year before. He had two warm fuzzy bodies waiting to lavish love all over him when he walked through the door.
He smiled once more, prayed a quick prayer of happiness for the boy. As Faith sang the last few lines, he spell checked, and posted his latest blog.