This was hopeless. Was it naivety or aloofness I saw in those stark blue, almost hypnotic eyes?
This god's stupid grin offended me. I knew for a fact that I never looked so happy while I still wore that face.
I'd never looked in the mirror and seen anything other than tired eyes and plastered-on smiles meant to shield me from the annoying questions I would've gotten if I'd ever let on to the fact that I was truly miserable.
Seeing that same face—my face—so bright and glad ticked me all the way off.
I was trying my best to keep it together, but I could feel my anger simmering. Churning, violent rage I didn't know where to put; pushing it down would only make it worse. And besides, it was already too late.
I could feel my ghostly form flaring outward, wisps of smoke like tendrils lapping at the void, hissing as they did.
How could the universe be so fucking unfair? I wondered. A useless thought, though.
Years of taking shit, and when I finally saw a way out—death.
Sudden and final.
What grievous sin had I committed in my past life to deserve this? Or did justice not matter in the grand scheme of things? Or maybe I was just too insignificant to matter at all.
"Why?!" The question forced itself out. I was suddenly in the god's face, knuckles white, gripping the collar of his blouse. A slight warmth began blooming at the point of contact, but my mind wrote it off.
My eyes burned with resentment, not for him, but he was the only one here so…
For a moment I thought I would burst into tears, but, of course this form couldn't even cry.
There were no tears, no soothing release, only a festering, growing anger.
And this god. His eyes widened for a brief second, as if taken aback by my sudden grab, but he seemed to quickly mask it. His goofy grin turned into a muted frown. Was it irritation, disappointment, or concern? I couldn't fucking tell with this guy.
You'd think I'd be able to read him well since he wore my face, but it was quite the opposite.
"What aren't you telling me?" I couldn't accept it. There must've been a mistake or something. "Take me back." My voice was desperate now, pleading for the slightest bit of mercy, "it can't end like this."
My pleading was met with only silence, his expression now one of slight awkwardness. The look you have when you're trying to comfort a crying person but your parents never taught you any emotional intelligence so you just pat them on the back and hope for the best.
He couldn't even maintain eye contact with me. Was he hiding something from me? He was definitely hiding something.
Maybe it would've been easier to accept reality as is, but I didn't want to. And, you couldn't make me if you tried.
I felt my rage begin to bubble up, the seizing feeling gripping my chest with impunity, anger taking over my body. Making me forget I was running my mouth to a god—
Breathe, I told myself.
This void was messing with me again. It was like my fuse was half the size it should be. I felt irritable and irrational and every small emotion would inflate in an instant.
My fingers… curled into fists against his chest—began to tremble. I couldn't let go of the collar. I really was stupid wasn't I?
I was so close to taking my frustration out on him, like he deserved it. What could I even do to him? Hit him? He was a god, after all. My arms were already feeble to begin with, but now, in this smoky form, they would've probably collapsed on impact.
My gaze drifted down his body: his outfit—it was my outfit.
Of course it was mine. He'd already stolen my face and body; why not my drip too? The white blouse tucked into blue jeans, and white sneakers.
The clothes I wore the day I died. Another wave of confusing emotions hit me as my last few hours on Earth replayed in my mind.
***
I was trying so hard to look presentable, going for a business-casual look. I had wanted this job so badly, and they had finally gotten back to me with an interview day. Everything had to be perfect.
I remember that morning, standing in front of my mirror, checking myself, maybe a bit too obsessively. Not to be full of myself, but I looked pretty cute and stylish.
My mother had always told me that I didn't know how to dress myself properly, but who'd listen to that old hag anyways? I sure didn't.
My outfit might've been basic, but it was still chic and, most importantly… It was business casual. I didn't wanna dress up and be 'too much' for the interview.
I spent about thirty more minutes doing "model level" poses and snapping pictures in my little apartment, moving to different spots for the desired scene. Times like this were when I was thankful to be living alone. No one was here to rain on my parade or drag me back to earth when my confidence soared a bit too high.
When I left my apartment, I knew the world was finally doing right by me. No more working part-time. My portfolio had scored me this interview, and my charm would pull me through.
The office building wasn't far from my place, just a few minutes' ride away. The bus dropped me a block away, and I walked the rest.
I was a little taken aback by how huge the building was. It made my nerves a bit frazzled, but I quickly steeled myself. I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath as I continued through the threshold.
You're gonna do great. You're gonna do great.
I repeated the words in my head, though I couldn't convince myself quite ye—
I bumped into somebody, sending me tumbling back. I only had my eyes closed for like a second and this happened. Before I fell on my ass and thoroughly embarrassed myself for life, a strong hand grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. My eyes fluttered open to see who my savior was, and my heart did a little flip off a cliff as we met eyes…
Before me was one of God's angels—escaped or fallen, I didn't really know, nor did I really care—but either way he was here on Earth. His gaze sent a gust of gale blowing toward me; I'd have fallen all over again if he wasn't holding my arm.
Built like a bronze statue, tall like one too, the face of a Greek god, and eyes that sparkled like moonlight. As dazzling as Aphrodite's… sons. Phoebus Apollo, god of the sun, would've been jealous of such glow. All this cosmic—unearthly—unthinkable beauty—dressed in the stupidest fucking outfit you've ever seen.
I had to do a double take to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. And they indeed were not. He looked like a clown, and I say that without exaggeration because he was indeed dressed like a clown. Big clown shoes, over sized pants that needed bright red suspenders to be held up.
The only thing distracting from the outfit was the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt at all, so his bulging biceps and pectorals were just out in the open like it wasn't a crime flaunting those things—like if he stepped outside this building he wouldn't cause a chain of accidents: cars crashing into one another, pedestrians wandering face-first into light poles, planes crashing into buildin—
…maybe not the last part.
"Hey, you okay?" A phrase meant to snap me out of my daze but only served to drag me deeper into it. His voice—deep and raspy—
A snap of his fingers finally snapped me out of it and right into utter embarrassment. Mind racing.
Did he see the way I was ogling at him? He must've. Oh gosh, he probably thinks I'm a creep!!!
"You okay, miss?" he repeated the question, finally letting my arm go when I'd regained my balance.
"I—um, fine—thanks." I replied quickly, stumbling over my words, humiliating me further.
Swiftly slipping past him, with an awkward bow, I made my escape…
Which probably made him think I'm a weirdo on top of being a creep. 'Hopefully I won't see him again.' I thought.
I berated myself mentally, down the hall and up the elevator till I reached the floor where I'd have the interview. I spoke to a receptionist, and shortly after, she called me up.
The interview went… great, obviously. Better than I could've imagined. I'd taken my breaths, cleared my mind of a certain clown, and kept on a charming smile. After the usual blag, they asked me about my availability and when I would likely be able to start.
It wasn't anything certain, but he sure made it sound like it, so I held hope. I had a bright smile on my face as I stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor.
The smell of coffee was in the air. I turned the corner, and the sudden mood shift stabbed me in the gut and ran off with my confidence. Could you guess who I was met with?
There, a few feet ahead, leaning against the table that held the humming coffee machine, a cup under the nozzle ready to receive the steaming liquid… was the fucking clown. I froze in place.
When his eyes met mine, a slight grin rose on his face. "Did your interview go well?" he asked.
How did he know I had an interview? At my delayed response he quickly added, "I'd never seen you in the building before, and you had a big smile coming down, so I thought, hey, your interview must've gone well."
I had to mentally pinch myself as I confidently continued my stride forward, which made a hint of amusement show on his face, like he knew the effect he had on people—no, he definitely knew.
"Yes," I said, a bit haughty-like. "It went great." My chin raised a bit. This only made his grin wider.
"Another designer?" he asked, pouring an excessive amount of sugar into the coffee he'd just made. I nodded in response. "I'm guessing I'll be seeing more of you then?" a hopeful tone.
"Perhaps." I was keeping my cool, staring at the coffee he was now stirring to avoid staring at him.
"Well," he said, clasping on the lid, "I hope I can model for you sometime." He offered me the coffee. "Hopefully you don't make me wear more clown outfits."
I took the coffee. He'd managed to get a chuckle out of me, and the warmth of the cup in my hands made my nerves calm.
"I'll see you around?" I asked, turning to leave.
"See ya," he said with a wave, promptly placing another cup on the coffee maker.
"Thanks for the coffee," I said walking away, and his grin turned to a pleasant smile that almost made me tumble again, but I made it out of the building alright.
As I made it to the intersection, waiting for the lights to turn, the morning breeze blew past, my hair billowing in the wind.
The woman beside me—a mature looking woman, maybe in her thirties, dressed professionally in black pants and a suit jacket, black hair cut short, and heels that must've been a nightmare to walk in—
She saw me staring and I shyly looked away, eliciting a chuckle from her. That made my face heat up, embarrassing me even more.
I wondered if her morning had been as wonderful as mine. Since I had taken time off from my part-time job for this interview, my schedule was free, and I had big plans for this evening.
I'd have a big dinner—maybe at the fancy diner down the block from my apartment. Sure, I'd be eating alone, but who else is there to splurge on me? And I can't not celebrate just because I was alone.
I sipped the warm coffee cradled in my hands. Sweetness permeated my taste buds. He really did put too much sugar in it. I hadn't even asked him for his name…
I'll ask when I see him again… hopefully, I see him again.
The morning had been perfect—the warmth of the sunlight seeping into my skin, a cool breeze cooling my flushed cheeks, and a sense of triumph swelling in my chest from my small victory.
Perfect…
Then the air stilled. A shadow suddenly crept over me. Blaring horns and the thick, suffocating smell of gas filled my senses.
I barely had the time to snap my head up and see the blinding headlights of a truck growing brighter and closer. My breath escaped my lungs and refused to return. Ears ringing—I heard the woman scream, "Watch out—!"
The sickening sound of my skull cracking under the weight of that truck was the last thing I heard. I didn't even have time to feel the pain before the world went blank… and then numb… then I was here.
***
My hands fell away from his collar, my body now trembling. He still didn't move, didn't speak—just stared with that same fucking unreadable expression.
It was unbearable. At this rate I wouldn't need whatever the heck was hiding in the void's darkness to drive me mad…
I desperately needed to get the hell out of here, go to wherever next was—if there even was a next—after that pathetic show of a life.
Heaven? Hell? It didn't matter where. Life had always been cruel; certainly the afterlife wouldn't let life outdo it.
"Y-you okay?" The sound came as a surprise. The mute god finally speaking. Was that remorse or pity in his honey-like voice? Hearing his voice surprisingly calmed me down a bit.
I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves, then I smiled a flaccid smile and asked:
"What next? Heaven… hell?" The god seemed to avert his eyes, twiddling his fingers.
"What is it?" I was getting worried. "I'm going to hell, aren't I?" He still didn't answer, which irritated me even more. Twiddling his fingers faster.
"Answer, damn it!—"
"Neither," he whispered…
"What the hell did you say? Speak up!—"
"None! You're not going to either of them." His voice was clearer now, eyes looking straight at me… those fucking blue eyes.
This whole thing was a freaking joke. Though he was clearly serious, I… didn't care anymore.
"So what, is this my afterlife?" Seemed perfect—an endless, mind-numbing void filled with nightmares or whatever. I had to hand it to the afterlife. This was a whole other level. Bravo.
Life can't even compete. I mean, I'd have to stay here for at least eighteen years in order to compare it to my life so I can review it clearly. But the setup wasn't bad at all. Brav—
"You're not staying here either."
'O?'
His voice cut through my thoughts—he was suddenly back in my face and grabbed my shoulder. "I know your life's been pretty shit," rude, "but I got the deal of a lifetime." He said it so excitedly, completely overturning the sour mood I'd created.
But that smile he was able to do with my face made me feel uneasy.
Though, as nightmarishly cozy as this void could potentially be… I kinda, maybe, sorta didn't wanna spend eternity here. So…
"What's the offer, god man?" His smile grew wider and I regretted my choice immediately.