Linger

The man in the blue suit was what one might call a “perfect specimen.” He looked as if his features had been determined by bringing together all of the things that people found most attractive in men. But there was something about him one couldn’t quite put their finger on. Of course, many tried. Louisa Kent tried too. 

 The first day she’d seen him on the street corner, he’d caught her eye. But her cab flew past, and he had just been standing, waiting for the walk sign to illuminate on the other side of the street.  How he had caught her eye in that second, she couldn’t have said. Normally, someone she’d had a passing glance at through a car window would've disappeared from her mind before she’d even reached the office. But the man in the blue suit would linger. 

She saw him again, a week later. Walking into her favorite coffee shop, she ran into him walking out. He held the door for her and smiled. There was something about that smile and the way his eyes seemed to bore into her that caused his memory to now do a little more than quietly linger. 

 On a Tuesday night, in an empty bar, Louisa perched on a bar stool. At the other end of the bar sat the man in the blue suit. There were only bar stools and a stretch of countertop between them.  When she first walked in, she plopped down at this end of the bar without looking around. It had been a hard day; she ordered a Corona and reflected on the disaster that was the Big Meeting.  The man in the blue suit filled her head, and she was losing a lot of sleep. It greatly affected the presentation. She finally took stock of her surroundings after tipping back her glass and draining a third of it. Even for a Tuesday, it was very empty. A couple sat almost on top of each other in a booth in the far corner. A waiter milled around, straightening tables that were already straight. The barman was cleaning the already clean glasses. And then there was the man in the blue suit. 

As he took a slow sip of his drink, Louisa found that she couldn’t stop looking at him. Finally, he looked up and, seeing her staring, picked up his drink and made his way over to her. He slid onto the stool next to her. She was still turned toward him, staring. He was intoxicating, and now that he was close enough to touch, it was even more evident. 

He glanced sideways at her. “Come here often?” Even his voice was perfect. Louisa was having trouble processing his coy, albeit very cliched words. She managed a nod. Then the night kind of disappeared. If you could ask Louisa, she would tell you that she thought they’d talked for hours, and after a drink or two, he asked if she wanted to leave with him. But she didn’t actually remember this.  And it wasn’t what really happened. What she did remember was only being aware of what was actually going on once she was in the cab with him. 

 In the dead silence of the ride, with the man in the blue suit’s arm around her, she suddenly realized that he didn’t smell like anything.

Whether it was sweat, or cologne, or something entirely different, no one didn’t smell like anything. 

The cab stopped at a dark building. He paid the driver and helped Louisa out of the car, ushering her through the front door. She assumed it must have been an apartment building, but who could tell anymore? He unlocked a door, and they went inside. 

“You’ve been waiting for me,” he said as he locked the door behind them. There was nothing threatening in his tone. Actually, it seemed devoid of tone entirely. It was a statement, an observation. 

“You came and sat next to me at the bar,” Louisa said, as she sunk into the couch. He smiled and shook his head.

“No, you’ve been thinking about me. You haven’t been able to get me out of your head since you saw me from the cab window that day.” The fog cleared a little. She hadn’t told him about that.  He grabbed her hands and pulled her up, guiding her into the bedroom. 

“What are you talking….” But she lost all coherent thought as his arms wrapped around her waist. He leaned down and kissed her. 

Everything was distinctly seductive, but, slowly, his arms felt like they kept wrapping and his mouth seemed to be getting wider. She opened her eyes and looked up, long enough to see something dark, darker than she could possibly describe. She opened her mouth to scream but was gone before she had the chance. 

The man in the blue suit stretched, cracking his neck from side to side, and straightened his tie.  He stepped out of the crater where the dark building had been and walked down the street.  It’s morning now, and people are rushing about on their way to work. He stops at the corner of the intersection and waits for the walk sign to illuminate. He hears something and smiles to himself.  Rebecca Crane caught a glimpse of him from the window of the bus she just got on, and now he would linger. 

And the black hole, which is waiting to swallow all space and time, sits within his mouth.