Only the Living Are Lost by Strantzas Simon

Author:Strantzas, Simon [Strantzas, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hippocampus Press
Published: 2023-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

So Much Potential

Hilda did not like the look of Blake. He was tall and broad, with brutish features clumped around a crooked nose. Underneath his heavy lids sat a pair of flat black marbles that fixed on her and didn’t move. None of him did. From the moment she saw his giant square hands laid flat on the table between them he didn’t move an inch. It was as though he were a statue. Or, more worryingly, as if he knew he couldn’t trust himself not to lose control of those hands and strangle her.

And the worst part was, he had nothing to say. Hilda should not have come. She could have stayed home, worked on another proposal, or studied another marketing book. She couldn’t afford to waste time. So why had she allowed herself to be convinced to go on a fix-up in a sketchy restaurant across from a man like Blake? He just wasn’t right. She’d been on plenty of bad dates, but even the worst of her ill-suitors had at least tried to start a conversation, even if that conversation was about how hard it was to be a man nowadays. Too many complaints and too much overreaction about a bit of friendly and misunderstood flirting. These men were monsters, but at least they were the sort Hilda had encountered before. This one was different. He didn’t have to say a word to scare her, because all of him scared her. From his dirty fingernails to his scuffed shoes. Where did he get that suit, she wondered. A yellowish gray, he must have rolled in dirt to get it so filthy. Or crawled out of a dumpster.

“Roxanne tells me you’re from out west. Did you grow up there? Just outside of Evenston, is that right?”

Nothing.

“I used to know a pair of girls from Evenston. We’d go round the pubs in college, but eventually they failed out and had to go home. I managed to get myself back on track, thankfully. How about you? Did you go to school nearby?”

Nothing still. Just dead black eyes; his giant hands, bigger than her face, flat on the table.

Was it too soon to leave? That was the question swirling through her head since she’d arrived and found him waiting there. How long was the right amount to ensure she didn’t upset him? Ten minutes? An hour? His existence terrified her. Just sitting near him was enough to make her feel ill; he seemed perpetually on the edge of utter and unbelievable violence. But would it be safe to leave? She didn’t want that violence turned against her. Please, let it be directed at anyone else, anyone but her. She didn’t care how horrible it was to wish it.

“I should freshen up,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table. “I’ll only be a minute. Don’t get up,” she quickly added, not that she’d needed to bother. Her emerald dress with its white floral pattern draped over her knees as she stood.

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