Author's Note: I'm beginning to think that I have an odd fondness for summer and beaches.
***
It was a freezer, a long, black freezer kept on the floor of a medium-sized room that had no windows, but there were dim lights.
The only door opened. A large pair of hiking boots passed the boundary between the room and what was beyond. Those boots were worn by a very tall person with ankle-length, tightly curled hair the color of blood. There was a loose, faded, and paint-stained pair of jeans. A white button up shirt with rolled up sleeves, it revealed tanned arms with firm muscles. There was an oval shaped face, a somewhat long nose, and a pair of dark blue eyes that were almost dead.
The person closed the door and walked over to the freezer. Although the hips themselves appeared feminine, this person did not walk with the swaying gait that many women used. This person walked quickly and with no desire to appear beautiful.
A hand with short fingernails, darkened by soil and perhaps something else, claimed the freezer's handle. The lid was pulled up with a slight pop and an electric hum.
Inside, there was the body of a handsome young black man. There were bloody bandages wrapped around his throat, his waist, and his arms.
The red-haired person's free hand rose up. The fingernails ... they extended ... grew ... until they were sharp looking claws.
The hand swung to one side.
The claws sunk into the redhead's bare wrist.
Of course, blood spurted and trickled down.
***
A refreshing afternoon's jog.
That was exactly what she thought she needed.
Ana put on her gray sweatpants with her attached phone case, black sports bra, red tank top, and her worn and dirty sneakers. It wasn't a long drive to the park, but it was a nice one. She passed old and new buildings, each one with their own story.
Once she was safely parked, she got out, locked the door, and went off at a gentle pace. There was no need to start off with a bang.
Children were playing on playground equipment. That was wholesome and sweet, a nice thing to notice. Some people were walking their dogs, also wholesome and sweet, except for the types that weren't well trained. Goodness, those types of dogs loved to bark and snap their teeth at anything! Why were they usually the smaller breeds? Was it because people don't often train the smaller ones, because they think their misbehavior is often cute?
Ana kept her breath steady. Her black ponytail swung back and forth. Sweat dropped and slipped around her flesh. Her brain was relaxing, cleaning out all the worries in the world, at least until they'd return.
Her world was happy for a time.
When she was tired, she sat on a bench under a tree and wiped at her face and neck. Then she looked at her phone for a while. She had a surprisingly good connection. She read a few threads in certain gaming forums. Her eyebrows lowered at one thread. Someone was complaining about how a certain female character sat down on the ground with a different animation from her male equivalent.
Seriously? Of all the things to bitch about?!
Maybe she should get into video game design. She already had a few game engines on her PC. She had only played around with them, but maybe she could make a visual novel or an RPG. She wouldn't even have to hire an artist for the visual part. Not every game needed 3D animation; 2D was just fine.
But, that sounded like a lot of time, effort, and risk without enough reward.
Ana decided to look at her business email. There were a few new things to read, but nothing upsetting. Everything was going along smoothly.
She spent a bit more time playing a pointless, casual app game. Why? Because sometimes her brain needed something foolish. By the time she was bored of it, the sky was multicolored, signaling sunset.
Wow. She really stayed a while, huh?
Ana put her phone away and stood up.
Brisk and merry, she walked down a pathway.
And eventually, on another bench, she happened to see a hunched over man, opening and closing a lighter again and again.
"Hm?" Ana paused to examine him more carefully. He was wearing gray slacks, a matching blazer, and a white shirt. A straw pork pie hat was on his head, but it couldn't hide the fluffy, long black hair that rested on his shoulders.
That ... was a pretty ugly hat, but at least it wasn't a trilby or a fedora. Ana hated those hats.
She blinked ... and then she gasped.
Holy crap! Vlad Dalca!
Carefully, she approached. Then she bent over a little and softly announced her presence. "Hey. Mr. Dalca? Are you okay?"
Click! The lighter was closed a final time. He tucked it into a pocket in his slacks. Then he looked up at Ana with a face that wasn't mean. It was miserable. His eyes and cheeks were glossy from tears. There was a noticeable blush.
His voice was astonished, but quietly so, because apparent weeping had nearly strangled him. "Ah ... Ana?" He quickly put his hat in his lap.
Were they on a first name basis now? Ana chose not to make a sarcastic or rude comment. "You look like someone ran over your pet dog. What's wrong?"
A corner of his lips twitched. Then he pulled a handkerchief from inside his blazer and patted his face. "It's not something I should explain."
Ana nodded and sweetly said, "It's a personal issue, right?"
With a big, nearly demeaning sniff, Vlad Dalca folded his handkerchief and put it away. "That's right, and I don't want to burden you with such difficult things."
Standing straight, Ana laced her fingers together and told him, "Well, if you don't want to talk about your problems, that's fine, but would you at least let me sit beside you? Sometimes, the best way to feel better is to have someone near you."
Vlad Dalca leaned back against the bench's metallic back support. He stretched his great legs as he spoke. "I'd love to have you sit beside me. Stay as long as you wish."
Ana plopped herself down and gave him a tolerant expression, her smile placid. "Does your son know you're upset?"
"Certainly. He asked me to go somewhere."
"I'm guessing he didn't want you to hide in your room and pout."
"How did you know that?"
Ana looked up to the sky and scratched at her cheek. "Uhm ... I don't know. Maybe ...?" She shrugged. "When my dad's sad, he stays in one room and pouts, but it's not healthy to do that for very long." A sigh. "I just assumed you might be the same way ... even though you're two different people."
"You have fine instincts."
"Maybe." Ana tugged out her phone. "Do you want to look at some videos? I have lots of data left, and I just use wifi when I'm at home."
