I'll Take A Double

She was just like a shot of espresso: hot and black, with very little content. I rolled my eyes and kept walking, but she pursued me with the tenacity of an enraged chihuahua.

“You do not just walk away from me!” she screeched, stepping in front of me yet again. I sighed and sidestepped to the right. She sidestepped to meet me. How had I gotten myself into this situation?

“Just drop it,” I muttered. “Now’s not the time. I’ll text you later.” I reached out to touch her shoulder, to prevent her from moving in front of me again so that I could simply escape from this dating disaster, but she wasn’t having it.

“You don’t touch me!” she shrieked, both of her hands flying up defensively as she simultaneously stepped back, her lip curled in apparent disgust at my indecency. I took advantage of the move and walked on by, picking up speed as I went, not quite running, not quite even jogging, but certainly putting a good deal of distance between us in short order. My eyes roamed the parking lot frantically.

Within seconds, I heard her primal wail as she recovered from her revulsion, running after me like there weren’t 5,000 people watching us, sitting back, propping their feet up, and waiting for the popcorn. I’m sure my face was red. Good God, where had I parked?

The blow to the back of my head came unexpectedly. It felt like a brick, but I realized afterward it had to have been her purse. I fell to my knees, momentarily blinded, and the crowd gave a collective gasp.

“You don’t never touch me,” she rasped, her sinister voice close to my face while her spittle flew, my cheeks dripping with its warmth. Everything was white and hot, but I felt cold inside. As my vision began to clear, I rose to my feet, and she straightened as well, her defiant face inches from my own. When she raised her bag once more to strike me, I grabbed her arm, wrested the bag from her grip, and threw it to the hungry crowd behind me.

“Get out my way,” I growled, shouldering past her even as the shock registered on her face. Although I didn’t look back, I’m sure the vultures had begun to scavenge the contents of the purse. I heard her howl of dismay as I walked on. Ah, there was the car, in the next aisle over. How had I missed it?

Later that day, while I was boiling some noodles for my supper, I was surprised to hear a knock on my front door, surprised to see red-and-blue lights flashing outside my window, but mostly surprised to hear the accusation against me: After I had attempted to rape a young black woman I had met online, I then robbed her and beat her. All of this, because she was black. It was, in fact, a hate crime. Multiple witnesses had corroborated the story. My jaw dropped in disbelief as the police read me my rights and placed cuffs around my wrists. As my heart pounded in my ears, all I could think was, she was just like a shot of espresso.

Author's Note: Please be aware that this is only a fiction story, not a political or cultural statement of any kind. Take it for what it is.

I wrote this story as a contest entry for the Dollar Challenge - Dead Inside But Caffeinated (October/November edition). I hope you enjoyed the read. I'd love to hear what you think, so please feel free to leave a comment, click the heart, and subscribe!