Natalie felt deliriously happy below the smiling, craggy moon and its balefire through the window that lit up the draperies. James had just kissed her goodnight two minutes ago and had already fallen into a restful coma next to her. She felt as though she could stay awake for the rest of her life, remembering the magic of climaxing with James’ cock deep inside of her. It seemed as if there would be no end to her era, the greatest epoch she’d have to hold dear for all of eternity. Death was a joke. Time was ineffectual. Even then, she knew somehow what that meant, and what it meant for her.
It was morning and Natalie had fallen asleep.
“I made you breakfast, dear,” said James.
Natalie grinned at the french toast, orange punch and grapefruit slices.
“Don’t look at me! Ack!” she mumbled while glancing into the mirror, “I’m all ugly right now. Look at this hair— all disheveled, all over the place. Jesus!” She playfully gave her boyfriend a punch and went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Above the towel, there was a picture of an apothecary. It was a simple image of two children. But they weren’t playing together. They were just holding hands, side by side, just like siblings. A boy and a girl. Natalie always thought of her brothers whenever she saw this picture, both of whom had spent many years out of touch with her. She wasn’t sure if they had spoken to each other for years.
The girl in the picture was wearing a neon skirt and a short jacket. She wanted to wear the clothes. She wanted to meet the artist who painted them like that.
Sighing out of excitation, she went to the bed to get her suitcase for some blush, eyeshadow, and fresh clothes.
“James,” Natalie called when she had finished, “let’s eat together. Did you wait for me?”
“That was fast!” he said, smiling at her with motions towards the kitchen. “Let’s dig in!”
After their breakfast, Natalie asked James to drive her to Newark Airport. During her flight home, James ordered two Asian prostitutes from his dealer. He flogged them after they had serviced him.
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