Una buona notte
As the tour guide paused to give historical details to her group, she ran her hand along the old wall.
A sense of deja vu hit her vividly, powerfully.
All at once she was laughing, running hand-in-hand with her love along the moonlit cobblestone alley. The night air was warm and fragrant with jasmine blossoms. He breathlessly twirled her around to face him. They did not have much time tonight, but it was all either of them had been living for. Her hands went to his head, fingers grasping his thick, wavy hair as they shared kisses that tasted faintly of berries and chocolate. He fumbled beneath her long skirt for a moment until her cheeks were cradled in his hands. He lifted her purposefully to him and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt the stone wall against her back while a much more welcome and heated hardness pressed into her eagerly. His sounds of pleasure were muted as he buried his face into her collarbone exposed by her disheveled peasant blouse—
“Signorina, stai bene?”
The tour guide's concerned query brought her back to the present. She had been slumped against the wall with her eyes closed and she was moaning. The other members of her group were gathered around saying she must have fainted from the heat. One stranger fanned her with a magazine. Another offered her a bottle of water.
“No, no I'm fine.” She embarrassedly waved away their assistance.
As the tour moved on, she quickly fished a pen out of her fanny pack and made a notation on her map. She needed to do research and learn everything she could about the history of this place and the apparent connection to her distant past.
If I was a river
If i was a suicide note
Youd be the pen
If i was a last text
Youd hit the send
If i was skinnier maybe youd see me then
If i was a river
You'd be a dam
Id flow right over into your hands
Why is it true youre all i want again
If i was a shadow
youd be the light
If i went to heaven
Youd be the flight
If i turned my back, im sure youd have the knife
You might see me
But you dont need me
Feed me
Like youre the air that i breathe
I wanna love you,
but idk how to
Found you
But youre not the you that i know
Philomena
Oh! Hello there. You are coming home with me.
Kayla felt slight guilt as she knelt down and picked up the Philodendron piece from the floor of the home improvement store.
It's technically not stealing, right? I mean, scraps like this are just going to be swept up at closing time and tossed in the trash, right? What a waste. I'm actually rescuing it if you think about it. Yeah.
She carefully tucked the heart-shaped piece into her hoodie pocket.
On the drive home to her tiny apartment, she placed her passenger on the dashboard and excitedly brought her up to date on all things Kayla.
“…and I am soooo close to graduating. And when I do, I'm definitely gonna land a kick ass job somewhere — maybe even in one of these places,” She gestured upward toward the towering glass buildings as she drove through the medical center streets. “And you're coming with me, of course. You are going to have your very own spot on my desk!”
Kayla prattled on, feeling excited for the future and surprisingly, a lot less lonely all of a sudden. It felt good to speak her hopes and dreams out loud— even if only to a drooping leaf.
When they got home, Kayla placed her new roommate in a glass of water and set her on the kitchen window sill. She made a mental note to pick up some potting soil soon.
It will be so nice to have someone to talk to for a change. Now, she needs a name. Hmm…
Kayla smiled as it came to her.
“I hereby dub thee Philomena. For it is a strong name and a good name for a friend.”
Walls that never break
Eyes of terror
Broken and tattered
Strays of past years
Unseen,
Even before you.
Walls to celebrate what we
Hate.
Fermented cabbage,
Kimchi kisses as we passed
Days that left,
Just as our fathers did,
But yours paid.
Mine went across that wall,
Handcuffed and bloodied,
I stayed back and studied,
Made my family proud,
Just kept awards coming
Let my mental shatter,
Anxiety on my morning
Platter,
34×32, 7/11 booze, 21
Growing fatter,
Eating decadent sweets,
Outrageous eats on unwinding
Streets.
Overflowing like soju
Running down my lips,
Bar hopping,
Killing the kid that never lived.
Calls with my mother every month
Or so…
Pick up where we left,
Tell me,
Why did he leave?
Did you know that I remember
The last fight you two had?
That at 19 I wanted to…
Some thoughts crawl
And make you remember,
Make each cinder brick
Weigh a bit less,
Walls
Seemingly
Indestructible.
Memory Awake or The girl who fell out of heaven (Part 11)
"Engineer?"
"Yes. Our team of geneticists along with our bio and reproductive technologists have perfected artificial insemination. The short version is we have developed biotechnology that allows us to ensure genetically perfect semen and ovum..."
"Genetically perfect?"
"Yes, Mr. Guyton. Our babies will never suffer from any genetic diseases such as cystic fibrosis, sickle cell, Huntington's disease, hemophilia, Down syndrome. Nor will they ever get any diseases associated with vaccines - polio, mumps, rubella, for example. They will not be susceptible to the common cold, the flu or any of the coronaviruses. They will be above average in intelligence without being geniuses since that leads to an imbalance. Similarly, they will be attractive but not, let's say, gorgeous since that also brings with it its own issues. And they will be both artistic and athletic but without any extremes that might cause any kind of..."
"Imbalance," Frankie says, interrupting. "Seems a tall order. What's your rate of success?"
"We started placing our babies with couples five years ago. Thus far, we have a 100% success rate."
"And before that?"
"My father and his team began their research some 30 years ago. We have several wings that, in addition to our research labs, include a: private hospital; K-16 school; library with an extensive collection for both study and recreation; maternity ward; orphanage; and, psychiatric wing. We are always working to ensure the best outcomes."
"Not sure you answered my question."
"There are no failures, Mr. Guyton, simply unexpected outcomes. And we deal with them accordingly. In-house. It wasn't until five years ago that we felt our results were consistent enough that we could introduce our product, that is, our babies, to the world.
"I see."
"Let's discuss how this works, shall we? We take the sperm from you - a painless procedure - and analyze the DNA in order to remove any red flags, while fine-tuning code as needed and giving you certain choices - eye and hair color, for example. Next, we inject this into an equally genetically perfect egg - again, one of yours which we analyze and perfect. Then we implant the fertilized egg inside a healthy young woman who we thoroughly vet to ensure excellent health and virginity."
"You have got to be kidding. Virginity?"
"Yes, Mr. Guyton. We ensure perfection from conception to delivery."
Frankie looks at Rose who is still smiling at Mrs. Mortimer. "A moment, Rose?" He touches her hand to get her attention. "In the hall?"
"Oh, okay. Sure. Please excuse us, Mrs. Mortimer. I mean, Evie."
"Not at all, Rose. Becoming a parent is a big step and should not be taken lightly. Especially not with one of our perfect angels. If you are not on the same page, you should probably reconsider."
"Oh, we're on the same page."
There's a knock on the door.
"Yes?"
The door opens and a tall, black-haired man steps into the room. "Mrs. Mortimer, a moment of your time, please."
"Dr. Randolph, Rose and Frank Guyton. Dr. Randolph is our lead physician and an integral member of our research team over the last decade. He ensures our clients receive the healthiest babies possible."
Dr. Randolph nods at the couple, clearly preoccupied. "Mrs. Mortimer?"
"Yes, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Guyton, would you like coffee or tea? I'll have some sent in while I take care of this. I shouldn't be long."
"No, thank you. We'll be fine," Frankie responds before Rose can say otherwise.
"Yes, Randolph? What couldn't wait until I finished speaking with our prospective parents?"
"The new girl, Luna? She's pregnant."
"That's what we do here, Randolph. Is there a problem with the embryo?"
"Not that we know of...except that we had not yet implanted the embryo."
"What? That's impossible. She was thoroughly tested: She's a virgin."
"She is a virgin. She is also pregnant. More importantly, it is not one of ours."
Mrs. Mortimer stares down the hall a long moment before responding. "Give me half an hour. I'll be there as soon as I finish with the Guytons."
"The red room?"
"Half an hour."
"Right."
Meanwhile
"I don't think we should do this, Rose."
"What do you mean? This is our chance, Frankie! Finally, I'll be a Mommy."
"It just seems unnatural what they're doing here. I don't know. I don't feel right."
"Please, Frankie. Please let me have this," Rose says, eyes filling.
Frankie is silent. As Mrs. Mortimer opens the door to re-enter the office, she hears, "Okay Rose." He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "I just hope you, we, don't live to regret this."