Vorpal

"It's been a while, hasn't it…?" I questioned nonchalantly. It was difficult to believe that this woman had called me. So many years ago, her company had been cherished, however, my heart was numb to her presence because the world, time, and circumstance have their way of crushing young girls' affections.

Dispassionately, I wrap my finger around the beige cord of the phone. It had been a present when I first moved into my small apartment, now but a relic of the past, just like the grandmother who had given it to me—just like what the words "best friend" meant now.

The woman on the other line slowly went on. She described how she had missed the days of old, but I had to wonder, were they lies? My heart, so incapable of emotion, weighed heavily at that one moment. She said she wanted to see me again. She missed those days and she missed me….

Was there any truth left on her tongue? She had abandoned my precious friendship for the fondness of a man and drifted away with the world, with time, with circumstance.

"Are you there?" she questioned nervously.

"A-Alright." I agreed with that damnable, damnable word.

She sounded pleased, and I was forced to wonder if she had a congenial smile on her lips. How long had it been since I last saw her smile? She had always been morose, as I once was, but I had overcome it. The world was not a wonderful place; it had degenerated so much with the passing years. Confidence, friendship, and family could overcome the world and all of her capricious conspiracies. Had she finally found a reason to smile?

The line died, and I placed the phone back on the receiver.

Was it ill fortune that she called me? Was it so terrible that she wanted to become close to me again? The heart inside my chest kept its pace. It told me nothing, but I remembered abandonment.

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Her Rolex ticked away at the passing seconds as a sculptor chisels a lump of stone into a work of art. She kept her blue gaze down at the Darjeeling tea. She sipped it and allowed small amounts of the rich, sweet flavor to warm her. She would not speak.

"Does… Mark treat you well?"

"Oh yes," she was quick to respond. "He's a professional chef now. He's able enough with his career. We don't have any children yet, though."

It was hard to resist the urge to scream. All that she had acquired over the years were some worry-lines that should not have marred her complexion. She was too young to have the troubles of the world. More importantly, however, she was lying. Beneath the cold mask of her flesh, there was a definite turbulence. Its existence was obvious in her seemingly surreal disposition.

"There's something wrong, Priscilla."

You could hear the faint clicking of the incessant watch. Each click, each tick, and every tock murdered any semblance of tranquility. The room became less human and more sterile.

"You've always been so direct." She took another sip of tea. "Sometimes I wonder if that's what pushed me away. You could always see everything—even weakness. Maybe I was just afraid."

Her voice was soft, as if she was unsure of how to form her words or afraid of my rebuttal. After all, my bluntness could cut deep.

"Priscilla, what's wrong?" It was hard to tell if my voice carried any emotion in it and even harder to tell what was in my heart. It was just empty like a piñata that had been beaten by an eager blindfolded child. The child just wanted candy. The piñata just wanted to remain whole.

I started to wonder if Priscilla was the child with the bat, or if there were several significant events in my childhood that started to strike at your piñata and Pricilla was the one who finally tore it to pieces.

What candies were inside?

"I want…" She huddled up on the couch. "The insurance refuses to cover for in-vitro."

I didn't say anything for a couple minutes. The gears of my mind were whirling, and I did not like the results. "You came here because you know I'm a lawyer."

She remained silent, and thus, dug her grave deeper.

"You don't care about being friends again. You just want to have a baby to make your sad life complete."

"I do want to be your friend!"

I glared at her pretty little tired face. "You didn't even ask how I was."

"You're just being selfish too!" She flung herself off of the couch while pointing an accusing finger.

"So you admit it—you came here because you want a baby." I was deadly calm. After all, there's no more candy and no sweetness left in my life.

"Fine! I'm leaving!" Her face was a trail of tears and mascara. Was she crying because of the truth, or did she really want to be friends again?

It no longer mattered. I scolded myself silently. The figurative heart where all of my emotions came from had already been cut apart by my self-preserving mind. If my heart had been allowed to bleed, I would have died by now…

Because of that, her friendship no longer mattered.

Priscilla hesitated at the door. "I wish the goblins would take you away right now."

If I was ever asked why I responded to her, I wouldn’t have an answer. In the end, I was also still childish and selfish but primarily still dealing with issues. Because…

"I wish the goblins would take you away right now too."

There is no Underground or Goblin King or Goblins, but still... I waited for it to happen.

Priscilla left.

I decided to put on my pajamas and retire early. There were actually several cases that I promised to see to before the week was over, and Priscilla ended up delaying that significantly.

Eventually the heavy silence allowed for me to fall asleep.

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The sun was bright on my face, but I wasn't in my house. My surroundings were barren.

"You really like to sleep, don't you?" The question was musical only because of the voice, a melodious jovial voice.

"Where…?"

He was a specter within a crystal ball—refracted into obscurity.

"You ought to hurry up. The other one has a head start on you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to bother explaining since you didn't wake up earlier."

The crystal fell and shattered into pieces.

"But I'd hurry..." His voice faded away.

Faded just like my chances of ever returning home.