All that breathes within the frames

 1 

Behind a sheet of glass he saw life coming to a standstill. The scenery looked unreal, as if it belonged to a painting held in place within the flimsy frame of his car window. 

The sky was colored the brightest shade of blue. Beneath it a body of water stretched from one end to the other.

Sky reflected water and water reflected sky, the two merging into one beyond the world's edge. 

He touched the glass with his fingertips and looked at the young woman who had recently entered the frame. Upon her arrival the wind ceased to blow; her slender figure blocked the scorching sun. She stood motionless in a bathing suit, yet her mere presence made the surreal more believable. He saw every grain of sand suddenly shifting just a little bit. For the first time he heard the screech of the hungry gulls, the quiet crash of the waves. 

And then the woman stepped into the endless sea. 

Step one. Water reached a point above her ankles. 

Step two. A seagull soared through the sky and snatched a fish, then flew once more into the clouds. The fish flapped helplessly inside the bird's beak. 

Step three. Only the woman's torso remained above water. She kept on paddling her way through the lucid liquid. 

Then the man looked away and turned the keys in ignition.  

He heard the whimper of his car engine and the screeching of the seagulls and the crash of the waves. A few seconds later, he sighed and drove away. 

 2 

On the way to my girlfriend's office to celebrate our two year anniversary, I decide to take a detour. Earlier today a woman drowned herself. Or maybe she just went for a swim, I did not stay long enough to see. Hopefully the sound of my car engine scared her off, despite it not being louder than a whimper. Either way, the incident put me in a bad mood. 

I search for a bar before meeting up with my girlfriend, a task which proves to be rather easy in a city that reeks of alcohol. Around every corner there's either a Starbucks or a sleazy pub. 

I find a bar that looks somewhat credible. This is the only place where society can find their peace of mind. 

I smile and park my car. A parking meter greets me after I step onto the sidewalk. I search my pockets for change but find none. Wallet is not on me either. Probably on the nightstand collecting dust. 

It begins to rain and I don't have my umbrella. I think of the girl. Is she dead or is she lying on her bed, touching herself and whispering my name? I get a boner thinking about her slender body. 

My only regret is not being able to see her face or her tits. 

It would be a shame if a girl like that committed suicide. 

I get back in the car and drive off. 

I need to get her out of my head. 

I need to come up with a plan B. 

 3 

Plan B comes to me without much effort: since I cannot find solace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle (at least not at the moment), I decide to go home and drink a beer or two before heading to my girlfriend's office. 

At home I stand by the sink and pour myself a drink. 

The glass is ice cold in my hand. 

Summer sun pours through the window and creates a pool of hot light on my wrinkled skin. 

Sweat beads trickle into my eyes. 

I drink the first beer in one gulp and pour myself another. 

It would be a shame if a girl like that committed suicide, I think to myself. 

I drink the second beer in one gulp and pour myself another. 

I think of the girl's a*s. I picture her standing naked in front of me. Her bathing suit strewn about the bedroom. The room itself smells like sweat and alcohol but the girl has a scent that dominates all else. It's a sweet aura and it drives me crazy. I wish I could touch the wetness between her legs. But the more I look the more she fades into non-existence. 

I drink the third and the forth and the fifth beer until there is nothing left to drink. 

I imagine the girl f*****g another man. From a dark corner of the room I observe the act. Their faces are lost in a haze. The bed creaks and the air smells of salt and semen. I touch myself as I watch them. They finish f*****g but I keep touching myself. They go out the room hand in hand but I am still touching myself. 

The beer glass is empty and cold in my hand. 

I stumble to the bathroom, pull down my pants and start to masturbate thinking of the girl. 

It takes less than thirty seconds for me to climax. 

I let out a deep sigh and collapse on the bathroom floor. 

The air reeks of alcohol and semen. 

In about forty minutes I need to be at my girlfriend's office. We have big anniversary plans.  

4

On that hot summer day where the hungry seagulls screeched and the sea opened its mouth to swallow another life, a fair lady opened her office window in protest of the weather. 

She was greeted by a rush of breeze that came inside and rustled some papers but had no intention of cooling the air. 

Outside the office building a group of people moved single file across the street. Down at the next intersection the pedestrian light turned red. On the sidewalk people gathered around like ants and waited for their turn to cross. 

The smell of sweat filled the office. 

The girl and her colleagues all sat in their cubicles. 

They punched in numbers and signed papers. 

Another gust of wind carried upon its crest the smell of gasoline. 

Gasoline mixed with sweat. 

All the girl needed was to find her God, and she knew exactly where to look: inside the bottle of a thirty year old Brandy. Then she thought of going back to her apartment and throwing herself on the bed without taking off her clothes. She thought of letting herself go in a world where one could no longer hear the sound of a typing keyboard. 

Outside the office life moved along at a steady pace. 

Suddenly the girl heard a familiar voice calling her name. She looked outside and saw a man in a tuxedo standing in the middle of the parking lot with a bouquet of flowers. She smiled and he smiled back. Just like a kid from a fairy tale, she thought to herself. 

On the other side of the street, a young boy happened to catch sight of our two lovers. He saw a gentleman equipped with what every gentleman needs. He longed to be in his shoes one day, to be in love with a beautiful woman and for her to love him back. 

The image before him looked surreal, as if these lovers were unwanted guests left alone in a painting still incomplete.