A POUND OF FLESH

It's Time

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IT’S TIME

8

It’s time.

The voice reverberates in his ears, he pulls the Egyptian cotton sheets tight to his body and turns on his side.  Facing the windows, he can make out the oncoming darkness through the pulled curtains.  He forces his eyes shut, attempting to return to slumber.  

It's time.  The persistence causes him to stir from sleep.  He looks around the sparsely decorated bedroom, he is alone.  

It’s time.  The words hiss with an urgency propelling him out of bed.  He does not fight it as he makes his way to the bathroom.  

He lets the cold water pound against his naked flesh, waking up all his senses with the persistent voice repeating its mantra bringing him to the brink of insanity.  He stands under the shower head until he can push the voice back in his mind to where it is white noise rather than a backseat driver.

Stepping out of the tub and onto the cool tile floor, he lets himself air dry.  His dental hygiene routine, became his next priority.  Brushing in uniform small circles he slowly works his way from the back of his mouth forward, starting on the top and repeating on the bottom.  The pressure causes his gums to ache - a good ache - similar to the feeling of sore muscles after a strenuous fitness regime.  After several minutes he flosses, rinses with mouthwash and gazes upon the toothy grin in his reflection.  A perfect row of piano keys.  

He runs a quick hand through his unkempt coffee colored hair, letting it fall in all directions and winks at the reflection.  His boyish good looks were something he has always leveraged to his advantage, and in this new life, they were proving to be quite useful.  An easy smile that makes others comfortable.

After carefully selecting non-descript attire consisting of dark denim jeans and a black fitted t-shirt, he turns his attention to above his closet.  Standing on a chair, he unscrews the air vent and reaches inside to retrieve his tools.  He carefully puts them into a backpack along with a few pairs of leather gloves, the carefully selected manila files, a bandana and a few handkerchiefs.  

Leaving his room, he peers over at the clock on the wall, 7:05 – he still had tons of time to complete his task.  

‘Soon,’ he tells himself, as he ignores the voice in his head to attend to the growls in his stomach.

***

“Evening Mrs. Keel,” he smiles broadly acknowledging his older neighbor with the nod of his head before turning back and locking his front door.  

 “Working late again Matt?”  She smiles back at him as she shuffles along on the way to her place.  

Mrs. Keel had been living in the building since her fifties.  Her husband had left her a widower at an early age and the house felt empty and too big without him, and she was 'too spry for a home' - those had been her exact words.  Now after all these years, she could not bring herself to pack up her life once again.

There was a handful of similar ladies in the building and they had flocked to each other like a moth to a flame.  Their social calendars filled with bridge, book clubs, tea and gossiping about their younger counter parts in the building. 

"Keeps us young,"  She had once giggled to him.

She always made an effort to be dressed nicely, regardless of the occasion.  Her hair framed her small face in little white curls, bobbing ever so slightly when she talked.  At times, she reminded him of his grandmother, who had died when he was a young boy.  She had been the only grandparent he had ever known - giving him a soft spot for the old lady.  

She was sweet, albeit nosy and often brought over dinner or cookies in hopes to glean any information she could about her young neighbor.  He suspected that she was lonely after her husband had passed away and the only person that ever seemed to visit was her granddaughter.

“Have to make ends meet, right?”  He keeps the smile plastered on his face, as he shifts the heavy backpack.

“You will never meet the future Mrs. if you keep this up,” she waves a finger at him as if scolding him, but her kind eyes said differently.

“I’m a bachelor for life!”  He laughs and she joins him.  Her laugh was delicate and full of heart as she clasps a hand to her chest, as if she truly found the statement to be funny.

“Well if you ever change your mind, my granddaughter would be perfect for you - you two would make such a cute couple…”  And Mrs. Keel was lost in her thoughts, most likely living out their lives in her mind.

“Good night – I will let you know if I do,” Matt turns on his heels and makes his way for the stairwell leaving his elderly neighbor daydreaming in the hallway.

It’s time!

The excitement could barely be contained.