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[ Chance sipped quietly his wine. He sat at a small table for two. Unfortunately, his mother had not been able to join him as she promised. He enjoyed company just fine, but he was old enough to take care of himself alone.
Baby blue eyes ran over the swanky resturant's guests. Each were seated in soft supple chairs that curved smoothly to support their backs. Not Chance. He was permanently seated in this cumbersome hell on wheels. Was it comfortable? How was he to know?
He had chosen a fine red wine that night. He was feeling particularly moody, so asked for the deepest wine in the house. Nick had been short with him lately. Something was wrong, but the kid wouldn't tell him. Always, Chance's thoughts would drift to Nick. Whether he was working, relaxing, dining, or spacing out, he thought of his nighttime brother. By day, he was fantasy, but by night, he was Chance's younger sibling. He dreamt of the boy and every night would pay a visit to him.
Of course Nick adored him. Young and old alike adored Chance's charm and calm demeanor. He was witty when necessary and could be the life of parties, but mostly remained sombre and somewhat withdrawn when alone. The difference between Nick and anyone else, was that Chance genuinely liked him back.
There was an element of Chace's dreams that he couldn't stand- literally. Even in his wildest imaginations, he couldn't walk.
His thoughts drifted. He began to consider again changing his last name. Walker. How ironic.
Had Chance had company, he would have excused himself to the bathroom, but as it was, he simply rolled his chair backwards in silence and wheeled himself to the restrooms. After finishing his business and returning himself to his chair, he wheeled himself out to the sinks and began to wash when he heard a deep voice and a click- a gun being cocked.
"I want the watch." The voice urged. Chance's head snapped up to see a finely dressed man with a neat face, but a greasy look to him. Chance immediately hated him, but handed him the watch anyway.
The man had no idea then that Chance had an eye for fine pieces of machinery as well, including guns. In the inner pocket of his fresh jacket was tucked away an antique handgun, used as long ago as the 1800's. Now he just had to get to it.
"The wallet." The man demanded. This was Chance's opportunity. Recognizing this, Chance calmly slid his hands inside his jacket pocked and coughed loudly so the man wouldn't hear his gun c**k. Without hesitating, Chance brought the gun to the man's face and pulled the trigger. A small explosion filled the room followed by a hiss. The bullet had gone through the man's neck and hit a water pipe behind him. Chance had never been a good shot. He had been aiming for the forehead.
He felt sticky blood spatter wetly on his face and dampened a paper towel to wipe himself with and returned his gold watch to his wrist. He calmly rolled himself out of the restroom and explained what had happened in the lavatories. The police were called and Chance had been questioned very thouroughly, but through a proper reputaion, was allowed to call a car to take him home. ]
 rane.ben · Mon Jun 05, 2006 @ 08:35am · 0 Comments |
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