Chapter 1: Laying Plans-
'I paid six dollars for this night mask, and everyone else is selling it for fifty-five.'
I showed him, shoving my phone in his face.
'You spend too much money on face cream and make-up,' the man says.
I pull my phone back.
I saved six hundred and ninety-two dollars.
'Interesting, and how much is too much money?' I lean back on the bed, regretting my excitement to share.
'I didn't spend your money, I spent mine, by the way,' I finish.
'Makeup and skincare are nothing but a recently made money racket to take women's money. That stuff doesn't work. It doesn't make new skin or keep you young. And makeup? God didn't make you that way, so that and the skincare aren't going to do anything for you,' the man says, posture straight, mouth still moving.
Memories of the night we met—the hours of professionally done makeup, the hair, waist-high skirt, and half shirt.
My nails, my toes, all pretty.
He enjoyed the nails in his skin then.
I wonder how he'd like them now.
Perhaps the Larynx, Pharynx-Trachea.
I blink. What?
I look towards the three-thousand-dollar gaming computer, blinking multi-colored like an infinity box.
The new graphics card.
A cathedral of man-made machinery.
And yesterday's attempted conversation. I was reading The Art of War, a mini version—it was adorable. I switched from that to Great Lines from Shakespeare. Side note—I own tons of different copies of The Art of War.
It's a comfort read.
I was excited about how you could apply the principles even in the artistic world of Shakespeare.
Of course, I was dismissed.
'Hmmm,'
'Women and men have been putting things on their faces for thousands of years. Since B.C.E.'
'No, and even then, it's not what they sell nowadays. And only accessible to a certain class of people, it was a rarity.' His surety was spelled across his face.
My eyes glance towards the gun safe taking up one entire corner of the room, then bounce to the walk-in with crossbows, more guns, more manly things a man has to have, you know?
I look towards the half-finished basement where there's at least sixty-thousand in tools, playthings. The cabochon grinder alone is a couple of thousand.
'Okay, sure,' I say, sticking my ear buds in.
And make an appointment with the nail technician.
Chapter 1: Section 5: 'The Moral Law causes the people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger.
