David's Evening

David looked outside. The setting sun glimmered faintly as it descended before lighting briefly upon the cross that stood astride the steeple of the Catholic Church. His eyes narrowed, the sun's red glow briefly passing over his eyes before it sank behind the smog cloud that consistently obscured the rest of the city from view. He sighed, turning back to his computer. The Washington Post was expecting his review. "No rest for the weary." He said, before hunching over the black keyboard.

His fingers moved like spiders, darting this way and that, the keys giving off a satisfying click with each twitch of his hands. Worn letters released their captive dyes, resigned to the constant friction that played over them, day in and day out. A pause came, the keys suddenly rendered voiceless, the flow of words choked as though by a rocky dam.

David reached up, his fingers fumbling in a box of cigarettes. A long white body emerged, perfectly smooth, its cylindrical form supple and yielding in David's hands, unblemished before his tired eyes. He had no lighter. He never bothered with smoking the things; he just liked the sensation of having them in his mouth, the small distraction that dispelled his restless energy, allowing him to focus on the job at hand. With the careless ease that comes with long practice, David tossed the green and white box over his shoulder, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as he heard the heavy metallic clunk of his garbage can as the cigarette box was devoured by a world of used tissues, apple seeds, and coffee cups.

The Doorbell rang, David looked up, his hand slipping into the back pocket as his eyes fell on the door. He rose, his back slowly unkinking from his prolonged time in the chair. With a quick, silent flexing of the lips, he sent the cigarette flying to join the box from whence it came in the trash bin. His hand slipped from his pocket, the firm leather in his hand held firm under his grip. The doorbell rang again. He took three steps, and was at the door. With a slight squeak, it swung open, to reveal a short smiling Asian man standing in the glow of a streetlight on David's clean-swept landing. "Mr. Akimoto!" exclaimed David "Thanks for bringing this over. I know it's getting near closing time."

"Too crose David! And I keep terring you, carr me Jiro! You caught me just when I was crosing up! Very good thing you aren't picky about what I give you!" Mr. Akimoto said in a loud voice, his small dark eyes widening as his diatribe went on. "You lucky we're not in west like my uncre. He would've served you an almadirro if you carred this rate!" At this point he closed his mouth, smiled up at David and adopted a kinder look. "You getting arong? I hear your rated corrum didn't get such a good review."

David sighed, accepting the plastic bag Mr. Akimoto pressed into his hands. "Yes sir, I've had a bit of writer's block. Ideas are in my head, but it's hard getting them onto the screen..." He shrugged and then laughed "But these should help!" he said happily, giving the bag a small shake. The light ran over the bag's white surface, the large red "THANK YOU"s flashing as a determined gleam of the setting sun burned through the fog to land, shimmering, on the plastic surface. David flicked open the leather wallet he held in his other hand, and asked "How much for this one?"

"Seven dorrah, seven dorrah!" exclaimed Mr. Akimoto, a serious look coming onto his face, before he gave a high cackle and said "Take it David, do you werr. I don't need the stuff much now. And you my favorite customer too! Just don't ret my other favorite customers hear I terr you that!" With a grace belying his age, Mr. Akimoto skipped down the steps to the side walk, tossed a small salute to David, and walked briskly down the street.

David smiled after the old man, before glancing around and shutting the door. Placing the bag on the small table next to the door, he turned to the lock, then hooked the latch, fastened the deadbolt, and turned the key in the knob. Removing the bag from its stand, he breathed in, appreciating the smell of fresh eel and Chinese cabbage. A gush of steam wafted the scents towards him before spreading the appetizing fog across the room. David crossed to the window, drew the shutters, and sat down to enjoy his meal.