A Roll Of The Dice - 05
This series of narrative fiction is based on random words that are picked via dice rolling.
Motif • Rotation • Glove • Fear • Floor • Wreck • Size
The conductor’s gloved hand lowers, and the orchestra falls with it. Flutes play the last of the dying motif. It has been a gorgeous arrangement, full of serene horns and tranquil woodwinds. The conductor’s other hand signals the final beat as he waves his baton.
A crowded opera house roars to life as the orchestra falls silent, with thundering applause that seems to make the very floor tremble.
The music is superb. I ‘m not here for the music, though. I’m here for her. First chair. Flute.
Her cascading curtain bangs hang in tatters after the nearly two-hour performance. From my vantage point I can see the light veneer of sweat that she wears with pride. She’s given the performance of a lifetime.
I look behind me instinctively. The door to the balcony is locked, but I can’t help the nerves. I always fear that someone might stumble upon me during my work.
I once again hold my binoculars aloft, my pinky wagging outward like an aristocrat. The orchestra is beginning to take their bows. She would go first, of course, as the soloist. This was my chance. I need to glimpse her one last time before finishing the job.
She bows with the grace of a newborn giraffe, but no one seems to care. She’s a musician, not a ballerina. I scope her one last time. There. Just behind her left ear, as I suspected, a new tattoo. Nothing so cliché as a music cleft. It instead depicts two ravens circling one another.
That was the last piece of information I need. I race to unlock the balcony and take my leave. I’m practically moving in slow motion with how quickly my brain is running.
I descend the steps, burst into the lobby, and scramble to the exit. There is no time to lose.
I cycle to my destination in a dead sprint, the familiar rotation of the wheels providing a brief respite in my mad rush.
Entering blindly and snatching my tools from the apartment counter, I get to work.
Feathered wings and black talons take shape before me. The job is nearly over.
I pack up my things as I approach the completion of my assignment. I need to get back to the opera house before she leaves.
A Roll Of The Dice - 05
“Her cascading curtain bangs hang in tatters after the nearly two-hour performance. From my vantage point I can see the light veneer of sweat that she wears with pride. She’s given the performance of a lifetime.”
My legs burn as they push the bike pedals to greater speeds. I skid into a bush and leave the bike toppled there.
Blowing past security, I make my way to the back of the house. I only have moments left.
There. She’s receiving flowers from an admirer backstage.
I prep the package. It needs to be perfect.
“Miss Black!” I grab her attention. She looks around with confusion before her eyes lock on mine. Now.
I pull the strap from my shoulder and aim. It couldn’t be more perfect. I reach out and hand her the package I brought, and sigh with relief.
“For you,” I say awkwardly. Didn’t plan that bit, but it felt right.
“How did you get here?” She asks incredulously. I shake my head. Later.
She pulls the canvas from the leather cylinder and gasps.
“It’s incredible!” Tears well in her eyes. “Thank you, my love,” her words wreck me.
“I got in last night.” It’s been a year since I’ve held her.
“It’s perfect.” She looks again at the painting I’ve made for her. It’s been a year since I’ve seen her eyes.
“So were you,” I say cheaply. But how could I resist? It’s been a year since I’ve heard her voice. “I like the tattoo.”
“It’s us,” she says sweetly. Apparently, I’m not the only romantic here. It’s been a year since I’ve kissed her lips.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
A whole year washes away with that single kiss. It’s as if we were never apart.
“Where shall I hang it?” She’s taken my arm up as her new residence, her head leaning softly against my shoulder.
“I thought we’d have it framed first.”
“We? You’re staying, then?” Her voice reveals her excitement long before that soft smile creases her eyes.
“Not just staying. I wasn’t sure of your size…” The painting wasn’t what had me so nervous. My hand shakes as I reach for hers. I kneel.
“Miss Adelaide Black, will you- “
“Yes.”
