Isaac groaned and lifted his head.  The sound of his own voice startled him, and he peeled his eyes open.  His nostrils stung.  The rag, which had been stuck to his face, flopped off and hit the floor of the garage with a moist slap.  The room reeked of solvent.
He got to his knees and nearly toppled over backwards—still quite dizzy, still quite happy.  His shirt was soaked, but with sweat or gasoline he couldn’t quite tell.
When he shut his eyes, there she was—strobing against the backs of his eyelids like a moth against a window—a white wedding dress and pale hair underwater, receding into the blackness, a thousand smiles and lovely things to say, but they had already been said a thousand times before.
He loved her dearly and opened his eyes.  The gas can was beside him.
He managed to screw on the cap.
The air was singing.

*  *  *

Sitting on his porch, he smoked a cigarette.  He had showered and changed his clothes because Maureen would be home soon, and she certainly didn’t approve of his habit.  She would approve even less if she knew it was basically akin to cheating on her as well.  The kids would be at school for another hour still, and things would have to get in gear again, which sucked.  Isaac didn’t like when things got in gear.  It wasn’t very comfortable.
How did I ever let things get this way? he asked himself.  His questions never got answers these days, but instead, would blow through his vast, cold mind like snowflakes.  He tried to remember a time when his questions did get answers.   He tried to remember what he’d had for breakfast.
No such luck.
Keys ratcheted in the front door, and it swung open, with Maureen and her brown paper armfuls of waste standing in its place.
Isaac flicked his cigarette onto the lawn.

*  *  *

Maureen was livid: “You’ve been huffing again, haven’t you?” she screeched.  The sound of her voice was like a machine.  It wasn’t real—there was no humanity to it.
“No, honey, I was just filling up the lawnmower and some of the gas splashed on my hands.  I guess I’ll go wash ‘em.”
She shot back, “You pig!  I didn’t know because I could smell it—I can’t smell a damn thing, I know you’ve gotten good at hiding it!—I know because I can see it, written across your face!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You get this stupid look on your face, like you just have no idea what’s going on!  I can almost see the brain cells dying!”
Isaac stood up and threw his hands in the air.  “So let ‘em die!  The fuck you care!  I have better things to do than spend my life trying to make you happy, when you won’t even let me be happy!  And before you say another god damn word, I’m not just talking about the fucking gasoline!  I’m talking about the coffee you buy, the way you organize the dishes, the way you open my fucking mail…!  I--I’m sick of you!  I’m done!”
At this pronouncement, Maureen stood up, too.  Her face had dropped, and she no longer seemed angry.  She looked hurt.
But Isaac couldn’t tell for sure.  She really was like a machine in many ways.
The kids ran through the room, one chasing the other, squealing and shrieking their little brains out.  When they were gone, the silence remained.
Isaac said something and excused himself, and he heard Maureen respond, but she didn’t stop him as he left and he’d already forgotten what words had passed anyway.

*  *  *

Sitting on the ground behind an automotive repair shop, Isaac applied the rag to his face.  The sun was warm on his skin, but he felt it grow vague, dimmer with every breath.  His heart fluttered with anticipation—he would be back soon.
The first effect was familiar like an old coat.  The sounds around him would bend, as if each ear were taking turns hearing, instead of both doing it at once.  Acrid black liquid dribbled down his chin.  He shut his eyes.
And there she was.  She was very far away, but he knew she was on her way.  The sounds of birds, insects, auto repairs and children in the distance all faded to nothing, and then rose again, but when they rebuilt themselves they were new sounds entirely.  In fact, they were instruments.  They were strings, some piercing and some bellowing, but all united to generate a loping, lilting song—a waltz—and it made Isaac warm inside to hear it.
She glided across the darkness until she was there in front of him.  With a coy smile, she extended her hand, and they began to dance.  There was nothing, vast nothing, cold, inconsequential nothing, all around them.  Their substance alone composed the entire universe.

*  *  *

When they found him, on their way out of the auto shop to dump the trash, his body was blue and his eyes were open.  A pair of paramedics was there shortly, but they were in no hurry.  Isaac was quite obviously dead.
One of the medics was a good deal fresher to the job than his partner, and the veteran could see it.  He said to the rookie, “Hey man, get used to it.  You’re gonna have to see a lot of this shit.  I thought you went to med school, for fuck’s sake!”
The rookie replied, “It’s not that.  It’s just so creepy how, like… he’s smiling.”


the end.