Endless Love I slid slowly down the concrete wall to a sitting position as I fumbled with shaking hands for a cigarette to light between quiverring lips. This was typically the time when sickness took hold, when the anger left me, like the waters of a giggling tide, high and dry on the rocky shores of memory and remorse. The winter air shot through me as the lighter's flint snapped repeatedly but didn't take, a crimson slick already coating the abrasive wheel. I surveyed my clothing for a surface that wouldn't make things worse, but couldn't find one. I'd really gotten into it this time, which explained my agitation and desperate need for nicotine. Fucking lighter. I'd used matches before Mora gave it to me for my birthday six years ago; stainless steel zippo engraved on one side with our initials, the other with "Endless Love". Endless. It hadn't ever failed before now, but maybe I'd let it run low. I crawled over to pat the body down and found a bic. I ran my thumb along the asphalt before lighting it, and returned to the corner to smoke. They'd need dental records for this one. This wasn't the kind of guy I was six years ago -- six years ago when Mora'd been killed. Back then I'd been a stable newly-wed with a bright future and a beautiful wife. Not a fucking care or homicidal tendancy in the world. Now here I was, coverred in a stranger's blood and smoking -- again; both habits I told myself I'd quit every year, once a year, for the past six. Six years since Mora'd been killed. It would seem insanity to the six year old me to take matters into his hands the way I did, but the old me didn't know shit about anything -- misery, memory, the trade and balance of human life; proactivity, pre-emptive action. The old me was passive and trusting, two faults for which we'd paid dearly. Certainly, nobody's perfect and granted I may have made a mistake here and there selecting targets, but the unalterable fact was that here before me, face down and letting blood in a widenning pool to soak the tarmac, was someone who won't hurt anyone, who -couldn't-, in fact, hurt anyone from this day forward. If someone had only done this in Mora's case, done this years ago, I wouldn't be here. Smoke reeled past my nostrils and smarted my eyes as I nuzzled the metal lighter with my thumb to reaffirm my convictions. How -could- it be out of fuel, I found myself wonderring. I filled it every year, once a year, for six -- six years since Mora'd been killed. Maybe the flint was wearing down or something. I hadn't really thought to check that. Mora was beaming when she gave the thing to me so many years ago. Her smile exposed the sun's poor skills of imitation. "I got you something." I remember everything about it. "Not for my birthday I hope." "Oh, is it your birthday?" "Every year this time." "Well, this has nothing to do with your birthday. It's just because I love you, and you deserve something nice." "I already have something nice." "Yeah, what's that?" "You." "Oh... That's almost as sweet as it is predictable." She sat down in my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I'm sentimental and repetative." "So you've said several times." "Well, each time I really mean it." "I got you a lighter." "Whoa, I thought I'd have to guess." "You can if you want to. What do you think it is?" "A lighter?" "You're right." I held her hand as she rolled the silver rectangle slowly in the light to reveal it's simple inscription. "'Endless Love'... so..." "Predictable?" "I wasn't gonna say it." "What were you gonna say?" "That I love you." "Endlessly?" "Oh yeah, Mora. Maybe even longer than that." Warm memories flashed hot and quickly blisterred with sickly rage as recollection bungeed three months forward to the night it all happenned and the angry waves came gibberring back. I wrapped the lighter in my palm and crushed the filter on my cigarette with clenching teeth. I was drunk. They were both surprised. I was still wearing my work clothes. She had on a blue dress, one I'd never seen before. Elegant, aluring -- like the one this girl was wearing, face down and letting blood at my feet. One more like the five before her. Six total; a drop in the bucket, but unalterably six who's caprice and infidelity would hurt no one from this day forward. This day as I burned with annual reminders of her endless love; this day six years later -- six years since I killed Mora.