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There were two of us back there in the dingy backroom of that dingy roadside diner. The wheezing ceiling fan periodically annointed us with blasts of ...ust and dead flies. Dense clouds of rank-smelling steam gave the place its distinctive atmosphere. We called it the Swamp.I was the one in charge of the pots, scraping congealed grease off the heavy cast-iron griddles and frying pans, and cleaning the remains of cement-hard mashed potatoes out of dented aluminum cauldrons. Marnie did the plates. I casually wondered at the number of people and for some reason, I knew that there were 13,651 people in this group. I did not know where the number came from.I worked to bring the bond tighter and fed in a feeling of well being and all the good thoughts I had been able to convey to others. The surge of endorphins was now a gradual process taking much longer but I think doing a better job. If I did this right then few would fall when their emotions overcame them.The effect was tapered off. As I turn around the corner another man is coming the other way readingsomething on his cell phone and accidentally walks right into me.Knocking the ice and the contents of my purse onto the floor. Both of usstood there in a state of surprise. For a moment we gazed into eachother's eyes.He begins to apologize saying how clumsy he was and how he should havewatched where he was going. I smile and softly said not to worry andbend down carefully in my short skirt to get my purse . He stoops. The house was taped with that yellow tape they use to keep people out. I was doing okay until I saw the door to our bedroom. The once glossy black door was splattered too generously with what had to be Jen’s blood. Without realizing what I was doing, I fell to my knees and put my hands on the still tacky red hell that was all that was left of my love. I gasped in a weak voice, ‘Paint it black! Oh, god, paint it black.’ This clearly scared the hell out of the rookie cop and bought me back from.
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