The Scarlet Pool

He began his spiel by touting the graces of the woman he had met. “She was a beauty like none other, with class exuded from every pore. The sophistication with which she espoused the benefits of facials was astounding. The way she rubbed the serum over my skin made me feel as though I were being touched by a regal heiress disguised as a mere counter girl.”

Isaac shifted his feet and nodded as Gill continued on about the girl. It seemed obvious to him that most of it was a lie or at the very least a huge exaggeration. He could feel tension rising in his gut the longer the conversation went. It had only been a minute and a half, but it seemed like an eternity. And what was that smell? Almonds? He could feel his face begin to contort, so he concentrated on keeping his expression hidden. No matter how uncomfortable he became while listening-one never really said anything back-to Gill, he never wanted to hurt his feelings. He looked at his watch and made his eyes swell. “Oh, my, I am late for a meeting!”

Gill's style was to attempt to impress everyone he knew and met with a grandiloquence of speech that caused a great deal of his meaning to be missed by those whom he was addressing. Those who knew him were more than aware that he was a lonely man, but his pushy insistence on talking through every encounter made it impossible to enjoy his company. Gill could see the uncomfortable awkwardness come over them when they saw him coming near. A shift in their seat, attempts to appear as though they hadn’t seen him, a feigned cell phone call were all typical.

Each time it happened, Gill would prick his leg with a pin through his pocket, to take his mind off the emotional anguish. This time, it hurt so badly he nearly fainted outright. He grabbed the counter with both hands, putting most of his weight on them, because his knees had become so weak he thought they would buckle and put him flat on the blue-flecked linoleum floor. He tried to focus on the reddening lines in his knuckles and how they traced into the thick spider web pattern on the back of his hand.

Why had he never held a woman’s hand, he thought? Why had he never held a man’s hand? That simple act of affection that he’s seen so many people undergo as he sat in the food court of the mall waiting for someone new to impress was not an experience he’d ever had. In fact the counter girl was the only person to touch him since he had moved from his parent’s house twelve years ago. He didn’t tell Isaac that it was last May when he had gotten the impromptu sales treatment.

The sore on his leg had been festering for two weeks now, but he refused to see a doctor. The increase in pain had made it more effective at taking away the emotion each time he pricked himself. Infection was something that happened to dirty people he thought, and he washed every day. The smell of almonds had only made him think that the new breath mints he’d started using were having a rather odd effect.

As he fell to the floor, hitting his head against a chair, he wondered if anyone would come help. No one every voluntarily came over to him; he always went to them. That pool of scarlet looks quite garish against the azure accents, he thought. Someone should scour these floors.