Its amazing how numb to this I am now.  When I had first begun it was never this way.  I would stay up nights.  I would stay up for days in a row as a matter of fact.  When I would manage to doze off for more then five minutes I’d wake up in cold sweats.  I would shake like a leaf.  She would always be there to catch me though.  She’d hold me for hours until she herself would succumb to her exhaustion.  I felt horrible for keeping her awake mostly because I could never really tell her the truth about who I was.  What I was doing.  That is until what I was had come for me.  But none of that matters now.  What matters is the waste of skin that I am now.  A lifeless drone that does what is told of it.  I have no ties to the world.  No obligations and no worries.  I don’t fear death, having come into contact with it myself several times.  I roll my eyes as I feel the phone in my pocket begin to vibrate.  I know who it is.  It’s always the same person.  The nameless, faceless voice at the end of the receiver.  I usually don’t get more then one of these calls per week.  Something’s up.  I wordlessly open the receiver and listen as I absentmindedly think of better days.

Bette:  “Hi.”

Woman:  “Hello.”

I suddenly realize I have nothing to say.  I usually play it cool and calm wooing whoever I’m talking to but there’s something about the way she’s looking at me.  So open with a hint of naivety.  I have no need to ‘mac’ her as well as no desire.  After a few moments of silence I am painfully aware I must speak.  She beats me to it.

Woman:  “Are you ok?”

Bette:  “Yes.  I’m sorry.  I um…”

Oh hell here goes nothing.

Bette:  “I saw you walk into the deli a few minutes ago and realized that you were one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.  Mentally I had no intentions of talking to you but my heart wouldn’t let you pass.”

Deep breathe in. What the hell did I just do?  She just stared at me for a few minutes obviously awe stricken.  After what felt like an eternity she finally speaks.

Woman:  “It’s nice to meet you too.”

She smiles and laughs a little.  The feel as if the sound of her voice floats into the air like bubbles from a child’s toy and individually break around my head.  I make a hidden declaration right then to have her make that sound as much as humanly possible.  I’m glad she has a sense of humor because I figure I must seem utterly insane.

Woman:  “Who are you?”

Bette:  “Oh I’m sorry.  Bette.  Bette Porter.”

I step closer and extend my hand to her.  She moved the bag she’s holding from her right to left hand to shake mine.  It feels as if I stuck my hand in a socket when her skin came in contact with mine.  She looked at me strange when she realized the speed in which I pulled away.  I think that’s because she felt it too.

Woman:  “Tina.  Tina Kinnard.”

Bette:  “Nice to meet you Tina.”

Tina:  “Walk me to my car?”

I smiled widely as I nod in the affirmative. 

Voice:  “There’s another.  Seattle.  Put a rush on it.”

Bette:  “A rush sounds like double to me.”

Voice:  “Done.”

Something’s definitely up.  I don’t know what.  I never do.  That’s the point.  I’m a hired hand, so to speak.  I don’t need to know and frankly I don’t want to know.  Knowing is what lead me here.  Knowing is why there’s no one left.  Knowing I why I am who I am and why I do what I do.  I am the poster child for ignorance is bliss.  I miss bliss.