The Beggar’s Bargain: Part Three

I stayed beside her until the rain stopped.

She never knew.

She walked home alone beneath the streetlights, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

I followed.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I couldn’t do anything else.

Every step she took pulled me with her.

Every doorway she entered became mine.

Every room she walked into became a room I could never leave.

I was bound to her.

The beggar had kept his promise.

I just hadn’t understood what the promise would feel like.

She opened the door to her apartment.

I followed her inside.

She turned on the lights.

I stood behind her.

Watching.

Waiting.

Hoping.

She dropped her keys onto the counter.

I stared at them.

I remembered those keys.

I remembered the first apartment we shared.

The nights we’d stay awake talking until sunrise.

The way she’d steal the blankets.

The way she’d pretend to be asleep whenever I complained.

I smiled.

Then I remembered.

She didn’t remember me.

The smile disappeared.

She walked into the kitchen.

I followed.

She opened the refrigerator.

I watched her grab a bottle of water.

Something inside me broke.

Not because she was drinking water.

Because I remembered buying that exact brand for her.

She used to tell me it tasted better than the cheap stuff.

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to tell her.

I wanted to say,

You still drink it.

But my voice never came.

I tried anyway.

“Do you remember?”

Nothing.

“Please.”

Nothing.

I stepped closer.

“It’s me.”

She shivered.

Her hand stopped.

She looked around.

My heart would’ve stopped if I still had one.

“Hello?”

I stood directly in front of her.

She couldn’t see me.

She looked toward the hallway.

Then the kitchen.

Nothing.

She rubbed her arms.

“Why is it so cold in here?”

I closed my eyes.

I was standing inches away from the woman I loved.

And she was afraid of me.

That was the first night.

It didn’t get easier.

It got worse.

Every day I watched her live.

Every day she forgot me.

And every day I remembered everything.

That was the punishment.

I remembered every kiss.

Every argument.

Every laugh.

Every stupid little thing I thought I’d forgotten.

The sound of her footsteps.

The way she said my name.

The look on her face when she was trying not to laugh.

The first time she told me she loved me.

The last time she told me she loved me.

I remembered all of it.

She remembered none of it.

Sometimes I screamed.

Sometimes I begged.

Sometimes I followed her from room to room just hoping she’d somehow feel something.

Anything.

But all I ever got was a shiver.

A glance over her shoulder.

A whisper of,

“Who’s there?”

I was there.

I was always there.

And she was always alone.

At least…

That’s what she thought.

Then the dreams started.

The first time, she woke up screaming.

I was sitting beside her bed.

She had tears running down her face.

She pressed a hand against her chest.

“Who was that?”

I stared at her.

She looked around the room.

Then she whispered,

“I know you.”

My entire body went still.

She looked directly at me.

For one impossible second, I thought she could see me.

Then her eyes moved past me.

She didn’t know I was there.

But she knew someone was.

She closed her eyes again.

I watched her fall back asleep.

And then I saw it.

Her face changed.

She was dreaming.

I couldn’t hear everything.

But I could see myself.

Standing beside her.

Alive.

Smiling.

Holding her hand.

She smiled back.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“No,” she whispered in her sleep.

I moved closer.

“Please,” she said.

My chest tightened.

“Don’t go.”

I reached toward her.

My hand passed through hers.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

She gasped.

The dream was gone.

But she was still crying.

She looked around the room.

“Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

I couldn’t answer.

She wiped her face.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

I whispered,

“Yes, you do.”

She couldn’t hear me.

But something had changed.

The dreams continued.

Night after night.

Sometimes she dreamed about places.

A restaurant.

A park.

A rainy street.

A little apartment with yellow walls.

Places I remembered.

Places we had been.

Sometimes she dreamed about conversations.

Things I’d said to her.

Things she couldn’t possibly know.

And sometimes…

She dreamed about me dying.

Those were the worst.

She would watch me disappear.

Watch me walk away.

Watch me stand in the rain.

Watch me drink the black liquid.

And every time she woke up crying.

Every time she would say the same thing.

“I don’t know him.”

But she always remembered my face.

Not during the day.

Never during the day.

But when she slept…

Something inside her refused to let me disappear completely.

And that gave me hope.

Hope was cruel.

I began waiting for nighttime.

The only time I could be near her without feeling completely invisible.

I watched her sleep.

I listened to her breathing.

Sometimes she smiled in her dreams.

Sometimes she cried.

Sometimes she reached toward the empty side of the bed.

Toward me.

One night, she whispered,

“Stay.”

I froze.

She reached out.

Her hand moved through the space where I was standing.

“Please.”

I moved closer.

“I’m here.”

Her fingers curled around nothing.

But she smiled.

For the first time since I died…

She smiled at me.

Even though she couldn’t see me.

Even though she didn’t know why.

Then she whispered something that made the darkness inside me disappear.

“I miss you.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I fell to my knees beside her bed.

She didn’t know who she missed.

She didn’t know my name.

She didn’t know our memories.

But somewhere inside her…

Something missed me.

I reached toward her face.

My fingers stopped just before touching her skin.

I couldn’t feel her warmth.

But I could see her.

And somehow that hurt more.

Because she was right there.

And I had never felt farther away.

Then her eyes opened.

She stared directly at me.

Not past me.

Not through me.

At me.

I couldn’t move.

Neither could she.

Her eyes filled with tears.

She whispered,

“It’s you.”

I almost screamed.

“What?”

She sat up slowly.

Her breathing became shallow.

“I’ve seen you before.”

I moved closer.

“Where?”

Her face twisted with confusion.

“In my dreams.”

My voice broke.

“You remember me?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

The hope disappeared.

“But I remember how I feel when I see you.”

I stared at her.

She reached toward me.

Her hand passed through my chest.

She pulled it back quickly.

Her face went pale.

“You’re cold.”

I looked down at myself.

I could see the streetlight through my chest.

“I know.”

She stared at me.

“Are you dead?”

I nodded.

She swallowed.

“Were you someone I loved?”

I couldn’t speak.

She started crying.

“Why can’t I remember you?”

I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her.

How much I had sacrificed.

How I had given up everything just to bring her back.

Instead, I whispered the only thing I could.

“You did.”

She closed her eyes.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then she whispered,

“Then why does remembering you hurt so much?”

I didn’t have an answer.

But somewhere outside the apartment…

I heard laughter.

That same laugh.

Deep.

Old.

Familiar.

The beggar.

I turned toward the window.

He was standing across the street.

Watching us.

Smiling.

I ran toward the door.

But before I reached it, his voice filled the room.

“You wanted her back.”

I froze.

His voice came from everywhere.

“You never asked what remembering would cost.”

I turned around.

He was gone.

She was still sitting on the bed.

Crying.

Confused.

And then she looked at me again.

“I know you,” she whispered.

This time…

I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing.

Or the beginning of something much worse.

Because if she could remember me…

Maybe the bargain wasn’t over.

Maybe it had only just begun.

The Beggar’s Bargain: Part Two

The paper was cold. Not cold like something left out in the rain. Cold like it had never known warmth. I held it between my fingers, staring at the strange symbols carved across its surface.

“What do I have to do?”

The beggar didn’t answer. He simply watched me. Waiting.

“For her,” I whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

“I know.”

His voice sounded different now. Deeper. Older. Like several voices were speaking through the same mouth.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial. Inside was a thick, black liquid. It moved slowly, even though he wasn’t shaking it.

“What is that?”

“A gamble.”

I frowned. “A gamble?”

The beggar nodded. “You want her back.”

“Yes.”

“I can give her back.”

My heart skipped.

“But there is no guarantee.”

“Guarantee of what?”

His eyes narrowed.

“That she will remember you.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“When she returns, she may remember everything.”

Hope rose inside me.

“Everything?”

“Her childhood.”

He lifted one finger.

“Her family.”

Another.

“Her friends.”

Another.

“Her life.”

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

“Maybe even you.”

My heart began pounding.

“Maybe?”

The beggar smiled.

“Death takes many things.”

He held up the vial.

“Sometimes it takes the body.”

“Sometimes the memories.”

“And sometimes…”

He paused.

“…the people who belong to those memories.”

I didn’t understand.

“What happens if she doesn’t remember me?”

“You’ll know.”

“And if she does?”

The beggar shrugged.

“Then perhaps you win.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed.

“You asked for a miracle.”

He stepped closer.

“Miracles are nothing more than foolish gambles with impossible odds.”

I stared at the vial.

“So what happens to me?”

The beggar smiled.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether she remembers you.”

I swallowed.

“And if she doesn’t?”

His expression changed. The smile disappeared.

“Then you will become something else.”

“What?”

“A ghost.”

I stared at him.

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

No.

He didn’t.

“You’ll be bound to her.”

“For how long?”

The beggar’s eyes seemed to darken.

“Until she dies.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“And then?”

He smiled again.

“Who knows?”

I looked away.

This was insane. A stranger in the rain was offering to bring my dead lover back to life. And all I had to do was gamble everything.

“What are the odds?”

The beggar laughed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to know what I’m risking.”

He stepped closer until his face was inches from mine.

“You already know.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“You’re risking yourself.”

I looked down at the photograph in my hand. Her smile. Her eyes. The woman I would give anything to hold again.

“What if she remembers me?”

“Then you have her back.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“You’ll still have her.”

I frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“She’ll live.”

He paused.

“She’ll laugh.”

Another pause.

“She’ll love.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“She just won’t know that you were ever part of her life.”

My chest tightened.

“And I’ll be there?”

“Always.”

“Watching her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to speak to her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to touch her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to leave?”

The beggar smiled.

“Never.”

Silence.

I looked at the vial. The gamble suddenly felt much bigger. But then I looked at her photograph.

And I realized something.

I wasn’t afraid of losing myself.

I had already lost everything that mattered.

I just wanted her back.

So I reached for the vial.

The beggar didn’t stop me. He only whispered:

“Foolish man.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

He smiled.

“Nothing.”

I uncorked the vial. The smell that escaped wasn’t chemical. It smelled like earth. Like a grave.

I raised it toward my lips.

Then stopped.

“One last question.”

The beggar waited.

“If she doesn’t remember me…”

My voice cracked.

“…will she at least know that I loved her?”

The beggar stared at me.

For the first time, he looked almost sorry.

“No.”

My heart sank.

“But she may feel you.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“A cold breeze when you’re near.”

“A shadow that follows her.”

“A presence beside her when she sleeps.”

He leaned closer.

“She may spend the rest of her life feeling like someone is watching over her.”

I looked at the vial.

“And she’ll never know it’s me?”

“No.”

I closed my eyes.

Then I drank.

The liquid was ice-cold.

Not the kind of cold that made me shiver.

The kind that felt alive.

It slid down my throat like melted snow, then suddenly turned to fire. I doubled over, clutching my chest as something inside me seemed to twist.

I couldn’t breathe.

My lungs seized.

I opened my mouth, but no air came.

Then I felt my heartbeat.

One beat.

Two.

Three.

And then—

Nothing.

My heart stopped.

I looked at the beggar.

He hadn’t moved.

He was smiling.

Then another heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

Hard enough to hurt.

I gasped.

A second later, another.

Then another.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Each beat sounded like a fist pounding against the inside of my chest.

I dropped the vial.

It shattered against the pavement.

The pain spread through my body.

My fingers went numb first.

Then my hands.

A strange tingling crawled beneath my skin, like thousands of tiny insects were moving through my veins.

I scratched at my arms.

Nothing.

The sensation wasn’t on my skin.

It was underneath it.

Deep beneath the flesh.

I looked down.

The tips of my fingers had begun to fade.

Not disappear.

Fade.

As though someone had taken an eraser to my body.

I could see the rain through them.

“No.”

I stumbled backward.

My shoes scraped against the pavement.

I grabbed my arm.

My fingers passed through it.

There was no resistance.

No warmth.

No flesh.

Nothing.

I screamed.

“What did you do to me?”

The beggar only watched.

My stomach dropped.

I could no longer feel the rain hitting my skin.

I could see it.

I could see every drop passing through my hands.

But I couldn’t feel a single one.

Then my skin began to crawl.

Not metaphorically.

I watched as the flesh along my arms rippled beneath my sleeves, moving against the shape of my bones.

My jaw clenched.

A pressure built inside my skull.

My ears began ringing.

Then came the whispering.

Thousands of voices.

All around me.

All inside me.

Some crying.

Some laughing.

Some calling my name.

I covered my ears.

It didn’t help.

The voices were coming from somewhere deeper.

From whatever part of me was still left.

My knees buckled.

I fell to the ground.

But I didn’t feel the impact.

I looked down.

My legs were transparent now.

The pavement showed through them.

My chest followed.

My ribs faded.

My hands.

My arms.

My entire body was becoming nothing.

I could see the street through myself.

The rain through myself.

The world through myself.

I tried to scream again.

But my voice came out wrong.

Thin.

Distorted.

Like it was being dragged through a long, empty hallway.

Then the cold reached my face.

It crawled across my skin.

Over my cheeks.

Across my lips.

Into my eyes.

I blinked.

And for one terrifying second, I couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a body.

I couldn’t remember the warmth of my own skin.

The weight of my hands.

The sound of my heartbeat.

Even my reflection began to disappear from the puddle beneath me.

I reached toward it.

There was nothing there.

Then—

Silence.

The voices stopped.

The pain stopped.

The cold stopped.

Everything stopped.

I looked up.

She was standing beneath the streetlight.

Alive.

Breathing.

Looking directly at me.

My heart should have been pounding.

But I no longer had a heartbeat.

“Her…”

I took a step toward her.

She stepped backward.

Fear filled her eyes.

I reached for her.

“It’s me.”

She stared at me.

Confused.

Afraid.

Then she whispered:

“I’m sorry…”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know you.”

I froze.

The world seemed to disappear around me.

“No…”

I looked toward the beggar.

He was gone.

Only the rain remained.

I turned back to her.

She couldn’t see me anymore.

I screamed her name.

She didn’t move.

I ran toward her.

My hand passed through her shoulder.

She shivered.

She looked around.

“Why does it feel so cold?”

I stood beside her.

Crying.

Screaming.

Begging her to remember me.

But she couldn’t hear me.

She couldn’t see me.

She couldn’t remember me.

And somewhere in the darkness behind us…

I heard the beggar laugh.

That’s when I realized the truth.

It was never a gamble.

The beggar already knew how the story would end.

I hadn’t gambled with my life.

I had gambled with my place in hers.

And I had lost.

To be continued…

The Beggar’s Bargain: Part One

I wish I could see her again.

Just once.

To hold her in my arms
And feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.
To hear her heart beating,
Slowly, softly,
Until it fell in sync with mine.

I would give anything for that.

Anything.

I still can’t believe she’s gone.
Some mornings, I wake up expecting her to be beside me.
Some nights, I reach across the bed
Only to find cold sheets beneath my hand.

She’s gone.

And no matter how many times I tell myself that,
My heart refuses to believe it.

God is cruel to me.

How am I supposed to keep living
When the person who made life worth living
Is no longer here?

So I stopped trying.

I stopped going home.
Stopped answering calls.
Stopped sleeping.
Stopped eating.

I started drinking instead.

It was easier.

There’s more liquor than blood inside of me now,
And every night I pour another glass
Hoping it will drown the memories.

It never does.

Her face still finds me in the dark.

Her voice still whispers in my dreams.

And every morning,
I wake up disappointed that I survived another night.

That night, the rain had soaked through my clothes.

I wandered through the city without knowing where I was going.
Streetlights flickered above me.
The sidewalks were empty.
Every window I passed was dark.

I felt like a ghost
Long before I ever died.

Then I saw him.

A beggar sitting beneath a broken streetlight.

At first, I barely noticed him.

His clothes were filthy.
His shoes were worn down to the soles.
His hair hung over his face, dripping with rain.

But something about him made me stop.

Maybe it was the way he sat perfectly still
While the rain poured around him.

Maybe it was the way he wasn’t shivering.

Or maybe…

It was the fact that he was staring directly at me.

I looked behind me.

There was no one else.

I turned back.

He was still watching.

His eyes were strange.

Too dark.

Too focused.

Like he wasn’t looking at my face.

Like he was looking through me.

I tightened my grip around the bottle in my hand
And started walking.

“Please.”

I stopped.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

I slowly turned around.

He held out one trembling hand.

I reached into my pocket.

“How much?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, his head tilted slightly.

Then he smiled.

There was something wrong with his smile.

Too wide.

Too deliberate.

Like he had been waiting for me.

“I don’t want your money,” he said.

I stared at him.

“Then what do you want?”

His smile disappeared.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then his eyes dropped to the photograph in my hand.

The one I carried everywhere.

The last picture I had of her.

My stomach tightened.

“How did you—”

“You want her back.”

It wasn’t a question.

I stepped backward.

The beggar slowly rose to his feet.

For the first time, I noticed how tall he was.

Far too tall.

His wet clothes clung to a body that looked unnaturally thin, almost skeletal.

He took one step toward me.

Then another.

“You’ve been asking for a way,” he whispered.

My heart began pounding.

“A way to see her again.”

I couldn’t speak.

He stopped inches away from me.

His breath smelled of something rotten.

Then he leaned toward my ear.

“I can give you what you want.”

I looked into his eyes.

“What would it cost?”

The beggar smiled again.

This time, I saw something behind his teeth.

Something that made my blood run cold.

“Everything has a price.”

He reached into his coat
And pulled out a small, black piece of paper.

He held it between two fingers.

“Make a deal with me…”

The rain suddenly stopped.

And the streetlight above us went dark.

“…and you can have her back.”

I should have run.

I should have thrown the bottle down
And disappeared into the night.

But desperation has a way of making monsters look like miracles.

So I reached for the paper.

And that was the moment
I made the worst mistake of my life.

To be continued…

A Little Race with Death

People have said that I’ve gone mad,

But they don’t understand,

I have always needed something to outrun.

I’m obsessed with racing the very best.

Obsessed with tasting victory like it’s rum,

Letting it burn my throat,

Letting it scorch my insides.

Winning is a flavor I savor slowly.

I roll it across my tongue,

And swallow it whole.

It is sweeter than candy,

Sweeter than love,

Sweeter than prayer,

I refuse to let go of its taste,

It’s irresistible and delicious.

I refuse to lose,

And I don’t care what I have to lose.

Or who.

Winning is the only god I bow to.

The only altar I kneel at.

The only voice I obey.

No one can beat me.

No one ever has.

No one ever will.

Death comes knocking at my door one evening.

Not gently.

It says my time has expired,

And my body belongs to it.

My wife collapses at my feet,

Crying, begging, praying

My children cling to her like loose fabric in a storm.

Their fear irritates me.

Death just stands in the doorway,

Tall and patient,

Certain it has won.

I feel it creeping into my lungs,

Freezing them from the inside out.

And my legs tremble,

For the first time in my life,

I feel slow.

So I make a proposal,

A race.

I tell Death I will run for my life.

That I had beaten better opponents than it.

Death laughs,

And whispers I’m already halfway gone,

My life alone is not enough of a wager

I smile,

And tell Death if I lose the race,

It can have me, my wife and my children,

Death pauses,

Saying it’s not their time,

I shrug and respond I’ll make it their time.

My wife gasps,

And says my name like she doesn’t recognize me.

I don’t look at her or my children,

Winning requires sacrifice.

Death laughs harder than before,

At her horror.

At my devotion.

And decides to accept my challenge.

Death offers me time to prepare,

But I refuse,

Because I never needed time.

Only a finish line.

The race begins without warning,

No starting pistol or countdown.

Just my heart trying to abandon me.

Death moves like smoke beside me,

Effortless.

Unbothered by me.

The ground beneath us fractures into shadow.

Each step feels stolen from eternity.

My lungs collapse inward.

Blood fills my mouth.

My vision splinters at the edges,

And Death pulls ahead.

Its fingers brushes my shoulder,

Cold.

Certain it had won.

But I lean,

I lean like I’ve never leaned before,

And I cross first.

There is silence.

Death stands at the line,

Defeated.

Studying me.

Bewildered that I have bested it.

Death admits I have won.

I collapse.

Gasping for air.

But I am alive.

My wife rushes to me.

My children sob against my body.

Their hands tremble with relief.

I push them away.

Their touch feels small,

And means nothing to me.

I am staring at Death.

At the thing that had never been beaten.

And I had beaten it.

The rush floods me,

Hotter than blood,

Sharper than oxygen,

I stand slowly,

And ask for one more little race

Death tilts its head.

I explain that one victory proves nothing.

My wife begs me to stop.

Calls it a miracle that I won.

But it wasn’t a miracle.

This was proof.

Proof that I was faster than the inevitable.

Stronger than the grave.

Better than the end.

I demand for Death to race me again.

Death studies me longer this time.

And says that I barely survived,

I grinned,

Then I barely needed to win.

The sky darkened.

Death began to fade.

And say that I cannot outrun it forever.

I laugh.

And respond I don’t need forever.

I only need to beat it again and again.

My wife whispers that I’m scaring her,

And I finally look at her,

And realize something important.

When I crossed that finish line,

I felt more alive than I ever had holding her.

More complete than the day our children were born.

Because they were never my greatest achievement.

Winning was.

Death starts to disappear.

I call out to Death,

It pauses.

Death feels something new with me.

Not fear.

Hunger.

I let Death know that I’ll find it.

The room feels colder.

I’ll chase illness.

I’ll chase war.

I’ll even chase rooftops and speeding cars.

Just so I can put myself in Death’s path,

Until it has no choice.

My wife starts crying.

Death watches her,

Then looks back at me.

For the first time,

It smiles at me.

It whispers that it’s looking forward to it.

Then Death vanishes.

I step outside,

And begin running.

Running away from my family,

And running towards Death,

Because now I understand something.

It isn’t life I’m trying to preserve.

It’s victory.

A high that rushes my veins,

And has me eager for more,

And there may come a day,

When Death finally wins,

But it won’t be because I slowed down.

It will be because I asked for one last race,

Just a little race with Death.

A Familiar Shadow: Part One

It’s late at night for Marvin and Jaden. They are in their dorm room, relaxing and playing some Mortal Kombat together. They’ve been playing for a few hours now, and they were on their last match of the night. Marvin is using Sub Zero, while Jaden is using Lui Kang. Before the match begins, they go back and forth trash talking to each other. Then, the match begins. Jaden wins the first round, then Marvin wins the second round. In the middle of their final round, Jaden receives a text message. Jaden looks away from the game for a brief moment, and Marvin takes advantage of him being distracted. Marvin hits Jaden’s character Lui Kang with a fatal blow and finishes him with Sub Zero’s fatality.

Marvin yells, “Let’s go! Get wrecked, son! Did you honestly think that this was a game to me?”

Jaden starts laughing and telling him to shut up. Marvin chuckles and continues, “Nah man, I’m enjoying this victory. You were talking all that foolishness for no reason. I earned the right to brag because all I do is win.”

Marvin laughs some more and replies, “Bro, shut up! The only reason you won is because I got distracted by my phone.”

“No excuses, Jaden, that was your fault. It’s not my fault that you weren’t focused. Do you know why?” Marvin asks.

Jaden asks why, and Marvin replies, “Cause all I do is win, win, win, no matter what. I’m the GOAT and King Kong ain’t got nothing on me, and you better not ever forget that. Or I’m gonna have to give you that business again.”

Marvin and Jaden start laughing together and Jaden says, “Whatever man, but that was a good win for you, I’ll give you credit. Just enjoy it cause it ain’t happening again, you know that right?”

Marvin chuckles and says, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. But yeah man, good game. So who texted you?”

Jaden takes a deep breath and hopes it’s not a text from his sister or mom. Before Jaden looks, Marvin puts his hand on Jaden’s shoulder and assures him that everything will be alright.

Jaden shakes his head and explains, “It’s just hard being here and not at home, especially with my mom being sick and everything. It’s only getting worse for her, and I’m just worried that any text I receive from my sister is going to shatter and destroy my world. I love my mom, bro. I can’t imagine a world without her.”

Jaden starts to tear up, and Marvin quickly embraces him. Jaden sobs and continues, “I just feel so much guilt being here. I should be at home helping take care of her, too. I’m just leaving it all for my sister to deal with alone.”

Jaden continues to cry and hold onto Marvin. Marvin assures him that it’s okay. He tells Jaden to let it all out and not to hold back. After a few minutes, Jaden starts to calm down and thanks Marvin for being here for him.

Marvin replies, “I got you, bro. You’re my best friend, and I’m always going to be there for you. And remember, your sister and mom want to see you still living and enjoying life. We’re graduating in a few months, and you know they want to see you walking and getting that degree. That’s a blessing for them. You gotta push through the pain and hurt and get that blessing for them. Alright, bro?”

Jaden wipes the tears of his face and nods his head in agreement with Marvin. Jaden thanks Marvin for the encouragement, and Marvin tells him that it’s no problem at all.

Jaden takes another deep breath and looks at his phone. He’s relieved to find that it’s not a text from his sister or mom, but it’s a text from Maria. She’s a girl in Jaden’s chemistry class.

The text read, “Hey I was wondering if you wanted to come over and study for a little bit.”

Before Jaden responds, Marvin asks if everything was alright. Jaden shows Marvin the text he got from Maria, and Marvin gets excited. Jaden does not understand the excitement, and he asks Marvin why he’s so excited.

Marvin responds, “Bro, Maria is trying to get a piece of you.”

“What do you mean?” Jaden wonders.

Marvin lets out a big sigh and says, “Jaden, my clueless friend, she’s trying to get to know you and something else late in the midnight hour.”

Jaden still doesn’t understand, and Marvin groans and says, “Oh my gosh, I really gotta spell this out for you. Bless your precious, innocent heart. Look, she’s trying to have a little bit of the sex with you tonight. She’s trying to smash.”

There’s a shocked face on Jaden’s face, and he tells Marvin that it’s not true.

“She just wants to study because we do have a big test coming up in a few days. The library is closed right now, and we just so happen to live on the same floor. It just makes sense that she would just want me to come over. It’s convenient,” Jaden explains.

Marvin chuckles and says, “Yeah, you’re convenient alright. She is not trying to study with you. It’s almost midnight, and ain’t nobody trying to study at this hour. I know girls bro, and that girl right there is trying to get with you.”

The more Jaden thought about it, the more it was making sense to him that she might want to have sex with him. Then, Marvin asks if he can see a picture of Maria. Jaden quickly went to Maria’s Instagram and showed her profile to Marvin. Marvin looked at a few pictures, and he immediately thought that she was beautiful and gorgeous.

Marvin says, “I see you Jaden! This girl is fine. You need to hurry up and respond because you have a goddess waiting for you.”

Jaden gives a nervous chuckle and tells Marvin that he’s not going over to her place. He asks Jaden why not, and Jaden takes a deep breath and tells Marvin that Maria has a boyfriend.

Marvin gives Jaden a puzzled look and says, “Ok, and?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you worried about the boyfriend on campus or something?” Marvin asks.

Jaden replies, “Well, not necessarily, I mean he goes to a school in another state. And—

“Bro, you’re all good. He’s like a couple hundred or thousands of miles away from us, so you’re good to smash,” Marvin interrupts.

“But Marvin, she still has a boyfriend. I don’t know if I’m comfortable being with someone that has a boyfriend. It just feels wrong,” Jaden explains.

“Why does it feel wrong?”

“I don’t know, it just feels like I’m disrespecting the relationship that she has with her boyfriend.”

“Jaden, I promise you her boyfriend is probably smashing some other girl right now in college and that’s why she’s texting you to come over. She needs a distraction right now, and you could use a distraction yourself. You’re doing her a disservice right now by not answering her booty call. Shame on you,” Marvin says.

Jaden doesn’t know what to say, then Marvin continues, “And they probably have little to no respect for their relationship if she’s trying to get with you right now. Why is that your problem? If she’s not respecting her relationship with her boyfriend, why do you feel obligated to respect it?”

Before Jaden can respond, Marvin admits that he’s hungry and needs something to eat. Jaden admits to being hungry, too. Jaden asks if Marvin wants to go to Taco Bell, but Marvin admits that he’s not really feeling Taco Bell at this hour. Then, Marvin remembers something about a new late night diner that recently opened up a couple of weeks ago in the city. Marvin looks it up on his phone and finds it on Google. He sees that it’s still open and suggests going to the diner with Jaden.

Jaden admits that he’s a little hesitant about going to the city late at night. However, Marvin assures him that they’ll be fine, and the food is probably going to be so good.

“Trust me, bro. Let’s get something good to eat and enjoy a little bit of the city at night. Nothing crazy is going to happen,” Marvin explains.

Despite Jaden being unsure about going to the city, he trusts Marvin and is interested in trying something new. Jaden gives the approval about going to the diner in the city.

Marvin smiles and says, “Awesome, let’s go to the city.”

This is the end of part one of “A Familiar Shadow.”

Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this short story.

Part Two of “A Familiar Shadow” will be posted next Thursday.