me & my total lack of identity

a novella

by
KT Penman

i have no dreams. it occurred to me, the man was fucking me and i was staring up at the supermoon. that's what They were calling it. super, i'm not sure why. it was very full, maybe a bit brighter. maybe bigger, i'm only guessing. nothing just was anymore. it wasn't a full moon, it was super, it's not a tidal wave, it's a tsunami, it's not cold, it's a polar vortex. you know what i mean?

the man's breath came in short puffs and he pounded at me with the desperation of one having his last fuck. his mouth sought mine, we kissed, both of us moaning. when it was over he clung to me. he was beautiful but the hair that fell in his eyes was unable to hide the pain i could see.

i watched him pad across the floor, his white buttocks glowing in the super moonlight. i felt bad for him but i was impatient to get on with it. he had to go, he was talking to much, unraveling. he was a loose cannon and They were clear on these kinds of things.

the vial was in my purse and i poured the contents into his glass of sparkling water. when he returned he did 2 lines from the mirror on the nightstand. he smiled which was good, it seemed important. when i offered him the glass of water i was smiling as well. here you go. he drank it all and got back in the bed. i put my arm around him. rest, you should, i said.

i am tired, he said.

it was only moments before he began to fade and then he died. i held his head as it slid on to the pillow and then confirmed he was really dead. there was no room for error, mistakes had happened before.

getting up, i took the mini vacuum from my bag and ran it around the bed. i dressed quickly dreading the frigid night and in these shoes but i was grateful he lived on the 3rd floor. i put on my coat and gloves and then tied a kerchief around my head. i finished the remaining cocaine and slipped the bill in the pocket of my coat then did one more thorough peruse of the place. i must be careful.

the balcony looked over a small, private courtyard and faced the back of the building. i lingered there only a moment before my teeth began to chatter.

after i attached the grappling hook to the railing, i climbed over and silently scaled down the side. earlier. when i had arrived, as arranged the building's cc cameras had been turned off. they probably still were but i couldn't be sure. i figure i can use the exercise.

it perturbed me that i had to stop a couple of times  to catch my breath. the six inch stilettos weren't great for gripping the brick wall either.

gulping the frigid air felt like a punch in the throat. i didn't want to jump, it was too dark, so i used the rope almost to the ground. once there i pressed the button at the end of the device and the grappling hook zipped back into my hand. back on terra firma i swallowed 2 Xanax.

astrolling through little italy i felt he first strings of serenity. i walked up Canal almost to Broadway where i met the driver and we drove for hours to another city where i boarded an early morning flight to LA. from LAX i took the shuttle, then a cab.

by my bed was a blue pill and a note that said TAKE ME. immediately, i did.

the kettle's on the table by the window in my bedroom. i kind of live in here. i rented the whole condo a year ago, it's nice, furnished but mostly i just stay in the bedroom.

i prepare my coffee, a tablespoon of nescafe and 6 sugars and then i light a smoke making note there's only 6 left. i smoke a pack and a half a day. i don't recommend it.

my mother says i should buy them by the carton like she does but that's exactly it, she does and she told me i should so i don't. know what i mean? buying my cigarettes is part of my day, it gives me purpose.