Obedience
by Drew Pennetti

Pablo stared across the table, looking into the woman’s eyes. As he stared into her black orifices, a color that had been darkened by the time that she had only known. A story of which Pablo neither knew of nor cared to hear. The woman stared at Pablo, recognizing his strong demeanor, and asked a question she knew there was no answer to. The question was simple, representing the arrogance of the socialist state. She asked him “why?” Pablo merely sat there, resting the length of his arm across the cool metal.

Pablo grabbed at the dark red pack of Winstons, removing a cigarette. As he moved his arm from the tarnished steel to light the cig, the woman noticed something that she had not seen before; she noticed that his arm left a visible shadow across the table. She gazed at his forehead which was now beaming with sweat. She again asked him, “why?” And she gained no reply from him.

The woman slowly pushed back as the wooden pegs of her chair screeched across the floor, slowly lifting her hefty frame. The woman leaned her body against the table, using her hands to support her weight. She positioned herself in Pablo’s face. Pablo stared into her eyes that were gleaming with the likeness of the tarnished steel. Pablo kept with the role he was playing, and just stared at her. The woman now inches from his face. He could feel the warmth of her breath as she asked for the final time, “why?”

He shuttered as his demeanor slowly broke down. Pablo raised both his hands, cupping his now distorted features and replied, “I’m sorry I….”

With this final act of disobedience the woman withdrew her body from a now withering expression. She stood idly beside the man, lowering her right arm to her side and grasping the polished steel of her sidearm. Pablo could hear a crack as the strap was unbuttoned from the leather holster. As he realized his fate, he glanced down at his stagnant reflection. Peering down closer and closer, the warmth of his breath obscured his own image. Pablo raised his hands to his ears, letting his weight fall through his elbows, into the table to block out the sounds of the droplets as they struck with a thump, a thump that mimicked his own heart.

The screech of the leather now echoed through the room as the woman pulled the sidearm from its leather cradle. The woman raised her arm to its full length. Pablo could feel the stale frosty kiss against his right temple, through his damp cold hair. The kiss hardened as the hammer was placed to rest with a click. A dark, cold breath raced through his body as the hammer fell. The shadow engulfed his senses. His body convulsed, consuming the last essences of life. The image faded, along with the thump. The stagnant stench of his own body fell out of the room, subsiding to the eloquence of the sweet smell of the woman’s perfume.