Kieron didn't want the doorbell of his apartment to ring twice. He didn't want it to ring at all. But there it was again, insistent and relentless as he hurriedly threw clothes over himself mid-shower, rushing through the steps to answer, the chime sounding like the impatient push of a postal worker's finger.
It was so persistent that he didn't have time to check through the peephole. He swung the door open and glared, ready to spit out a scolding at whoever was disturbing his peace.
"I wanted to talk to you about Armageddon. I don't know if you've heard of it, but are you aware that these global issues are not just coincidence? and the end times just around the corner?" The young lady's words blurred into the background as soon as Kieron laid eyes on her.
A black, satiny maxi skirt clung to the generous curve of her hips, stopping just above her ankles. A fitted maroon turtleneck stretched over a full bust, modest but not hidden beneath an oversized knitted sweater. A dainty cross hung from her neck, and her cherubic face wore minimal makeup, framed by glasses that magnified her hazel eyes--eyes that locked onto him with an intensity he wasn't prepared for.
He'd seen her before. In the shops, talking animatedly with people on the street. Kieron, normally quiet and rarely outspoken, had always been drawn to her energy. Today, his anger melted away at the sight of her, replaced by a strange awe. His shyness, as it always did, folded under the weight of confrontation.
"We can discuss more if you let me in?"
Her voice was steady, almost coaxing.
Kieron was awed by her perseverance, taken aback by the way this young lady--much younger than his 42 years--inserted herself into his space with such ease. An alarm began to ring in the back of his mind as she waited for his answer.
Kieron hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside, defeated. Before he could gesture for her to enter, she breezed past him, a presence that filled the room immediately, making herself comfortable in his living room.
"The layout is quite similar to mine," she remarked, her tone now shifting as she glanced around the space.
"Do you live around here?" Kieron asked, trying to regain some control over the situation. She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a hefty book and a stack of smaller pamphlets.
"I moved in not long ago," she said, her voice smooth, calculated. "Such a quaint little area. Souls ripe for the picking and a parish around the corner. Would you like to have a seat?"
It was absurd to be asked to sit in his own home. He had been intruded upon mid-shower and was now hosting an unwelcome guest, but something about her calm assurance made him comply. He sank onto the couch, unsure of why he wasn't protesting more.
She perched herself on the edge of the chair, posture perfect, her long legs crossed at the ankle, the skirt riding up slightly, her smooth dark skin gleaming in the dim light. Her presence was overwhelming, intoxicating. As she spoke, Kieron, for all his discomfort, couldn't look away.
"This pamphlet has everything you need to know," she said, holding one out to him, "but a little discussion, where you can ask me questions, wouldn't hurt, would it?"
Her words were practiced, smooth as silk. She gave him a run-down of her faith, peppering it with personal anecdotes about how jehovah had helped her through trials and provided peace in moments of struggle. Kieron sat next to her meekly, almost childlike, for all his inner resistance- he absorbed her words, unable to form any protest.
It had been some time since he had been in the presence of women he found attractive, and having this young, confident lady--whom he'd developed a slight obsession for during the moments he'd seen her earlier--speak to him was the most joy he'd get this week. While she spoke, he basked in her presence, in her closeness.
