visiting the museum
a flash fiction I wrote based on a friend’s prompt
I always wait until tomorrow to do my work, then tomorrow arrives to fuck me in the ass. I am outside the museum building. Knife in hand. There is no turning back now. I could stand there for the whole day. Time meant nothing to me then… does it mean anything to me now? How could I tell if I have no time to think.
What time is it? No time to look back. I am going in. I pass the ticket booth. “Suggested donation” my ass. The guard glanced at me. I think he knows. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I advance into the infinite halls. A moderate jog. I need to escape all the tourists. Fuck, I bumped into the tour guide. I run into the next hall. It is quiet here. Tranquil. I like it that way.
Okay. Breathe. Here it is. “Hello Vermeer” I mumble. He doesn’t hear me obviously. Time separates us. Fuck time. Fuck. Where is the knife? WHERE IS THE FUCKING KNIFE?
I run back into the room with all the tourists. They are gone now. My knife. It is over there on the floor. I fall. Fuck. The guard. He is standing in the doorway. We are looking at each other. He reminds me of Vermeer. Long hair. Red lips. Starry eyes. I could stare into those eyes forever.
I am bleeding out.
Tomorrow arrived to fuck me in the ass.