The Man
The man walked home as anyone else would, but he shouldn’t have walked that way, because it wasn’t the way one would walk if one was haunted. He came to his doorstep tired from all of the hills, up and down, each and every day. The door opened to his apartment, that of course wasn’t unusual, he had a key. “I love you,” he called when he took off his hat. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he called as he shed his coat. “I’ve been waiting,” he heard as he stepped out of his shoes. “I brought the paper,” he called as he threw it on the couch. “Thanks,” he heard from the kitchen. “You cooking?” he called as he walked into the bedroom. “If you want,” he heard as he lay down on the bed. “I’ll be in here,” he called as he closed his eyes. “Don’t wrinkle your suit,” he could hear the voice suprisingly close, in the doorway now. The fingers unbuttoned his suit-coat and helped him gently out of it. He kept his eyes closed and his mind closeted. The fingers silently helped him out of his suit-pants and into a pair of khakis, loose fitting. He didn’t mind the fingers, no, he took them in his own and kissed them gently. They stiffened in surprise and he could now feel the eyes watching his face instead of their work. He let them go and they opened his pinstripe shirt, his least favorite one, and took his arms out of the sleeves. He wanted now to open his eyes, but it wasn’t the right time. So the fingers helped him into another shirt, of which he did not recognize. The fingers were finished and he said to the ears, he said with love, “let me make dinner tonight!” The voice said teasingly but also with love, “You can’t cook!” he said in return, “Then I’ll shop.” He could feel the fingers brush his hair out of his face with the tenderness only a lover can, and slowly run down his arms to attach themselves to his hands. He let them help him up as he opened his eyes to view the receiver of his love, the reason for his move to their shared apartment, the owner of the voice, the fingers, the eyes, and his heart. He stepped into as different pair of shoes from the ones he had worn home and picked up his keys and wallet. His love walked him to the door and stood on the porch. As unusual as it was not for the couple, he turned and walked back to those lips he loved. He heard the shout of “Faggot!” and felt an egg hit his shirt as his lips reached those of his boyfriend. They were happy.
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