these days a lot of people call themselves empaths
They claim to be able to feel what other people are feeling and suffer with them
"I cheated on my boyfriend with his brother," some girl said, “and being the empath that I am I started crying along with him when he found out. It's hard being such an empath."
And there was the guy who got into a bar brawl and knocked another guy's teeth out and held a hand to his own mouth and made pain noises
I guess he was an empath too
If you have a social media account and don't describe yourself as an empath people will think you're some kind of monster, a psychopath, they'll compare you with Hitler
Yeah, it's a good reason not to use social media
If you actually needed another
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the ashtray was looking more and more like a sick hedgehog
and her yellowed fingers added one more quill to it
she sat back in her chair
work wasn't in the best of stages lately and her office looked like a junkie's trailer. You could scrape the nicotine off the walls. In fact, she would get nicotine under her nails if she just scratched her skin anywhere
But otherwise she was a beauty and that was a problem. Beautiful women have the worst luck in marriages
The husband left and the two girls went with him They were sick and tired of her habit to consume more cigarette smoke than oxygen
And drinking was also a problem though not nearly as big
The worst drinking has ever done to her was to make her lose the driving license which she never bothered to take back
The real problem was, as always, a lack of money. If the damn phone didn't ring soon she would have to kill someone for a pack of cigarettes
Assuming she could still kill someone with her body rotting from the inside. She was fine with breast cancer but now lung cancer joined too and it was by far nastier
Still that was all right It doesn't take a healthy body to pull a trigger
And speaking of triggers She opened a drawer in her desk took out the gun studied it
Not loaded
She browsed through the drawer
Only one bullet left. One single bullet. These things cost money too
Damn it
But it's like they said back in the mercenary camp The last bullet is always preserved to be used on the self
She loaded the bullet into the gun
A life lived well is one lived without regrets and without ever asking for mercy or feeling sorry for yourself
At 39 she had that. There was nothing else to be taken away from it
She put the gun to her temple
Smiled
"Except for a final smoke."
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She pushed gently against me
and fell on the
bed
Stretched a leg towards me
began unbuttoning at her
jeans
I helped her take them
off
Not too gentle, not too rough
Grinning, she turned around
in bed and said, “I just
remembered, you never told me
what your muse looks like.”
“Huh?”
“And please don’t tell me
it looks like me. We both know
that’s bullshit sweet talk poets use
to get girls. Don’t
lie to me, boy. What does your
muse look like? You
can tell me.”
I reached for her foot
moved it out of the way
not too gently, not too rough
Reached for the panties
She pushed my hand away
not too gently, not too rough
“Tell me. Is it, by any chance, a little
girl locked inside a basement like
it was for my ex-boyfriend? Do you
whip her when she’s naughty
and doesn’t give you inspiration? Do
you deny her food and the
bathroom?”
“What?”
“Tell me, poet! Do you? Do you
lie on your back when you masturbate
and imagine the muse
squat above your face
and shower you with her piss
as blessing?”
I took a step back. “What?”
“Oh fuck,” she said. “Just tell
me already what your muse
looks like and how d’you get
intimate with her. Tell me!”
“I, I don’t know. I don’t work
like that.”
She stopped touching herself
Watched me expecting
to add more
I gave a shrug.
Honestly, the last time I thought of
a muse it was
some broke, homeless young guy,
scrawny as a putrid
plank and roaming the streets
He had nothing in this
world
but hunger
A hunger that possessed him
and made him write like a madman
That guy was my muse
But I figured
she wouldn’t care to hear about that
Anyway, we didn’t go out for long
after that evening
She said we’re not compatible
because I’m too vanilla
Daydreaming as a profession 