Of Nosebleeds

"Only her gaze remained, as if fate stared me in the eye."

We stood in the desert, cheap lights dancing on our faces. I'm slouching in the office; the sliver of light escaping the Minolta scans my face. She throws a snowball at me so hard I slip on my back; seeing stars as I lay sprawled out laughing. She eats an apple on the streets of London, the red light flashes green; I ignore her as we pass each other on the zebra crossing. Occupied now, she is my fare; this is my cab and we're on Broadway baby. I am all of these places at the same time and nothing.

Pure white gives way to the lust of red, it happened again and will continue to happen. The tissue full to capacity with injury is thrown into the bowl. Nosebleeds remind me no matter where I am, I am now and I am never. The photos in this cold apartment tell the story of a man I don't want to be. I grimace at disingenuous smiles of myself with plasticine company, accepting useless awards, my useless braggadocio. Grey life, dull lights; how did I get to this point? The question will have to wait until I answer the light rap on the door, a strange premonition  As grey gives way to pure white, the door opens to reveal her snow blonde, blue eyes, pink pouting lips; of course I knew her.

"Hi. I just moved in next door, thought I'd get to know my new neighbours." She pauses looking into my cold lonely apartment. Will she remember me in this one? Her eyes open wider beckoning me, that gaze I've seen so many times before is there.

"Oh my, your nose is bleeding." Wait, no, this had turned around right now. Stay for this one please.

The bell rings, jerking my head backward I hit my head on the counter. The bustling kitchen stops just long enough to give out a cackle.

"Dozing again. Order is up genius." Wish I was serving up your heart you fat idiot. My manager plods off to piss someone else off. I pick up the two plates with relative ease, the colossal steak weighs me to the left ever so slightly. I am a hard-worker, fallen on tough times. Making due how I can with so much potential in a city waiting to spark. Serving food I can't afford to eat, wearing a uniform worth more than my wardrobe. The gentle choir of glasses, classical music and pretentious conversations guide me through the upmarket restaurant to table 88. I am on auto-pilot.

"One Camilla Lace salad for the lady and grilled steak Diane for the gentlemen." All the dishes here are named after 40s era vixens.

"Excuse me guy." I can already tell what happens next, a strange premonition. "The steak is for the lady and the salad is for me." With my attention firmly in the now, scales fall from my eyes as they meet hers; snow blonde, blue eyes...

"My apologies sir, easy mistake to make." The words escaped out of context, but it was too late...my fate had been sealed.

"Easy mistake?! What's that supposed to mean?" He stands folding his napkin carefully, he knows what he is doing.

"Stop it Jim," she pleas for my safety with such sincerity God himself would stop Earth's rotation in order to save me...He doesn't. The blue of her eyes give way to the black of my fall. The world slows down, the staff pounce on roid-rage Jim in half speed, the shocked faces of the patrons frozen in perpetual eternity. She picks up the folded napkin in real time, we're in real time. She kneels beside me, her presence adding the two to the one-two punch. She presses the napkin gently against my nose.

"Your nose is bleeding." Only her gaze remained, as if fate stared me in the eye. Then it was gone.

"This is how it's going to happen. Team one takes the roof, working their way down. Team two will be dropped off at the bottom and work their way up. The bogeys are holed up in the conference room on the 4th. Be careful, we don't want any collateral damage here people." Gibson smacks my helmet upside. "You with us fool?" I am Ares, I am the god of war, I am in a helicopter above Las Vegas. We're rappelled down to the roof of the Casino, gear locked in. The door splinters, the stampede down the stairs, the distant shouts of bad guys full of holes. As a unit we arrive at the solid oak double doors, somewhere the bells of a poker machine ring with the ominous absence of celebration.

"Team one is at point, we're ready to breach." I've done this a million times, what could go wrong. A strange premonition.

"Breach team one, you are a go to breach." The four of us brace ourselves and with a mutual understanding we are ready. The doors give way to heavy explosives as we melt into the room dispensing holy justice. The muffled sound of our silencers follow screams of pain as the bogeys hit the floor. After a riotous few seconds the dust settles. About a dozen bodies lie silent, bleeding, dead. The boys give each other high fives and fist pumps.

"The hostages are safe, all bogeys are down." The words haven't escaped my mouth as I see her through my goggles. As if surrounded by a halo, her snow blonde hair. She looks me straight in the eyes, that gaze. Contrasting the panicked faces of all the hostages, she is calm, a wide-eyed calm. The guys chest bump as I push past them. Breaking protocol I take my helmet off tossing the goggles to the side. This time she recognizes me I'm sure of it.

"It's you, you came again." These sound like my words, but this time they are hers, finally. Suddenly a flash, and a sharp pain. Her white hair gives way to red blood as I collapse to my knees. With his final breath, destiny has seen fit to put a bullet through my skull just below my nose...fate is a funny thing. I think I hear her mouth, "your nose is bleeding" but that is a macabre joke. I am gone.

We watch the lights of Vegas from the desert and I am gone. The Minolta prints out her posing for a shoe collection and I am gone. She stands above me laughing while the snow freezes my ass off and I am gone. I narrowly pull her out of the way of a speeding bus on the Zebra crossing and I am gone. She forces me to take the long route to Broadway and I am gone. I am all of these places at the same time and nothing.

It's the nosebleeds.