#53 Short Story
It is the failure of the last generation
why we, the next, are fucked up.
It is our generation’s failure
why the next
will be fucked up.
“So, what’s your plan for the next one?” asked the mayor.
He looked outside his second-floor window. Down the street, on the gutter pavement, two men basked in the morning rays of the sun—seemingly without worry for the day and what was to come. They enjoyed their talk, accompanied by poor man’s cigars and poor man’s, authentically artificial coffee.
Truly pitiful.
“Haven’t we discussed it last night?” said the half-naked man who smelled of sex so early in the morning as he calmly walked into the office. He rubbed his fingers through his hair, soothing his mind as the terrible crunch on his face slowly smoothed out.
Two young women walked in behind the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning. They looked fully refreshed—save for the slight limp in their steps every now and then. Their smiles said otherwise from the pain they felt; the pleasure had clearly outweighed it. They fawned over the man, caressed his sensual body, and took glasses for themselves—for both the mayor and the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning.
The mayor waved his hand and shook his head. One of the women smiled, returned a glass, and made him coffee. The mayor smiled back.
The man who smelled of sex so early in the morning stopped for a moment and opened the top cupboard of the shelf.
“Not here?” he said.
One of the women sensually hugged him, her fingers running along his arm and into his hand. She took his hand and guided him to the correct cupboard.
“Oh! Here it is,” he chuckled, then intimately kissed the young woman. She reciprocated.
She took the bottle of spirits, broke free from his clasp, and poured half-filled glasses.
“You two, hurry up. Pack up, dress appropriately, and leave us,” said the mayor, slightly irritated. The coffee he received smelled insincere—hurried. No love at all.
Not that he demanded it. But at the very least, respect.
They didn’t have it for him.
He knew, too, that they didn’t even respect the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning. But he was very aware of how money could make people lie—even to themselves. Right now, even without respect or genuine affection, it didn’t matter.
It never mattered.
To people with power, such things were trivial thoughts. Unnecessary.
Sad.
The two women finished their drinks, glanced at the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning, then walked past him and pecked him once, then twice. They laughed and chuckled as they returned to the room. A few minutes later, they emerged looking more mature—ladies now, compared to how they acted earlier. But their eyes still glowed from what must have been one of the best nights they had in a while.
The man who smelled of sex so early in the morning whispered and gestured for them to call him later. The two smiled in agreement.
The mayor, as a man, should have been mad—or at least felt disrespected. All throughout the ordeal, he had been invisible to them. But he remained unmoved. He valued sincerity and genuineness more than attention.
He knew the girls were only in it for the money.
The man who smelled of sex so early in the morning downed his third glass of spirits and placed it on the desk between them.
“I told you, you should’ve joined us last night, Mayor.”
“Bah! Irrelevant and unnecessary,” the mayor snapped, furious. “You should know I’m only letting you do this because I owe you quite a bit from that last… you-know-what. If—if—”
“Alright, Mayor. Thank you for that gift.”
“You better be.”
“Still, where’d you find those two ladies?”
“Shut it! You better not have any connection, relation, or whatsoever with those two. It’s a one-time thing. Better if you—oh! What am I even saying now?”
The mayor slammed his palm onto the desk. The fourth glass of spirits slightly trembled.
“Let’s move on to what’s more important.”
“But, Mayor, sex and love are important things too—”
The mayor threw his cup of coffee at the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning. It missed. The carpet across the room was stained with insincere coffee, and the figurine the mayor had half-heartedly received as a token of appreciation was dented.
“Stop with this crap already. I’ll look into them if you really want to add those two girls to your collection. But for now, let’s talk business.”
The mayor sighed, his eyes still burning.
“Oh, Mayor. I’m glad you love me the most among your people,” said the man who smelled of sex so early in the morning playfully.
“So—onto business. Which one of them would you want to become the next headline?”