Tales of the Storage Space, Part 45

Frank felt himself freeze, then laughed at his choice of the word “freeze.”  Fuggettaboudit!  How much colder could a fuckin’ ghost get?  But what had stopped him in his tracks, though green mists didn’t leave fuckin’ tracks, was the sight of a woman…one Frank thought he recognized…stabbing a man in the neck with the broken-off stiletto heel of a shoe.  Jugular?  He knew exactly what that felt like, as he watched the man’s green eyes go wide.  Vaguely he remembered some other man put something over the woman’s nose that closed her eyes, though not fast enough to stop what must have been a reflexive defense mechanism that got the wrong man.  But Frank hadn’t been paying attention then, and he was still struggling to get used to this 360-degree vision that seemed to see both everything and nothing.

Fucking A!

Now that he concentrated he could see that the man who’d knocked the woman out…with chloroform most likely, knowing his ways…was none other than his crazy partner Alex!

But Frank didn’t care.  His partner Alex, after all, wasn’t the one in danger.  Frank…what…flowed?…oozed?…whatever the fuck, but sure as shit didn’t walk on.

All he gave a shit about was that for one brief moment he’d been startled out of thinking about Karen.  But now he paid for it big time as it all came crashing back down on him in an avalanche of pain.  Martin.  She’d eaten, admittedly by mistake, Frank’s life’s blood and all she could think about was fuckin’ Martin.

Frank had sworn to himself that he would never again flow/ooze/whatever back to Karen in that storage unit.  He had sworn to himself that he no longer cared if that Shakespearean ghost lured her into death.  Fantasies of her ghost…scared, unable to adjust to 360-degree sight, seeking him out only to have him pretend he didn’t know she was there…felt so good.  At least that’s what he kept fuckin’ telling himself, while the stomach he no longer had did somersaults.

Where was he?  Maybe he could distract himself again by finding some righteous bastard getting the better of some asshole in a fight, or a poor loan shark getting his money back by murdering someone.

That fuckin’ storage space building!  He could still make it out in the distance.  All this time.  All this fuckin’ time.  He could go anywhere:  Europe, Asia, the moon.  But, no.  He’d just been going around and around in circles, in orbit around Karen.

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