Bet

He had so much trust in his God at these moments that he felt his chest would explode, he felt the swelling and breathlessness. God took care of him at every turn it was almost too obvious, he could almost see him. at red lights at night clubs at brothels, he saw his God, always where he most needed. he would look at a woman's exquisite curves and strategically placed garments and say, God! he would open up her legs and before he could penetrate he'd feel his desire dissipated into thin air, miracle! he'd make bets with his God knowing full well that he'd lose, that his God would not abandon him even when he disobeys and even when he sins. it is a relation that can not be contained in words and eloquence, a link that can not be captured in songs or movies. the way he looks at the hidden part of the lane and talks to his God, and then a car comes. it is fucking magic.

He took the shortest road to the bus stop, his eyes burning and his chest wheezing. in his mind was only his goal and how to get to it, at that moment nothing else really mattered that much. like dust in the wind everything else passed out of his consciousness, he would be only himself and nothing else, even if it is only for the few hours to come.

We do not all take the same roads at the same time, and his was a little late which added to the urgency of the situation. he was to do it for sure and not falter, it was about time. it no longer made a difference to him what was right and what was wrong and what was which, he'd deal with the consequences when he got there and not a moment earlier.

He thought of his God, he did not give much thought to it and dispelled the idea before it could nest, he'd decided to live this moment whether it was for the better or for the worse. it was not that he disregarded his God, it was more that he could see something and he was attracted to it, like adam and eve what matters most is always experience, otherwise, why would they fall from heaven to earth and gravel on rock and sand? He knew without any markers nor foresight that there was always more to his God than the do's and don't's. but right about when he was about to get on the bus, he talked to God and they made a bet.

A simple bet, a very simple one, stop me! do whatever ethereal unearthly godly act and stop me, there were about a million and one ways for divine intervention, an engine failure, a traffic accident, weather change, a phone call. he waited, no he did not actually he was as focused as an eagle on a rat. his mind was unresponsive to negotiation, reluctant to compromise, refusing any sort of half measures. he was to go up on to the apartment, knock on the door, she'd open, he would kiss her, removed her dress, open her legs, remove his pants, and get on with it.

He got down at the station and went on his way, straight, unwilling to pay attention to anything, his eyes were in such state you'd swear that he's on coke. his phone rang, he looked at it, mother, it read, he paid no attention to it, "come on!" he thought, "make a little effort".

He continued on his way until he reached his destination, an old, dilapidated building. with an exceptionally heavy door, he made the call "I am here, I am coming up". The voice responded: "hi honey, I am waiting behind the first door on the third floor on your left". He looked around him and life was moving at its mechanical base and nobody seems to notice - much less to care about - what he was about to do, because let's be logical; when there are 7 billion dispersed over the surface of an entire planet, what happens to one can not be even qualified as trivial, and it was foolish to expect anything else, he looked forwards and pushed the door.

The door slammed behind his back, and in front of him stood a crooked stairway. he cared not for appearances and with a swift pace, he was on the first floor, then the second, a couple of steps later and he faced the first door on the left, 3rd floor.

Unease pulled his chest towards his rib cage and did not waver, he wanted to knock on that door with every inch of his being and he felt pushed and pulled at the same time. he hated it, how sexual intercourse meant much more to him and presented much higher stakes than for everybody else. he knew it, that he would eventually cave and falter, which was even worse, he hated himself for it and, in turn, he felt rage and powerlessness towards his God.

You do not play games with God! you just don't!

With a door in front of him and a stairway behind, and with a heart inflated near the point of explosion, he screamed a desperate agony. He deplored himself and his fate and charged forward and knocked on the wall. he knocked so hard as if wanting to break it, until his fists filled with scratches. It seemed that physical pain helped him breathe. He went through and shut his mind completely to feel no more ! to hear no more ! he knocked on the first door on the left.

Nobody opened! he was mildly suspended from his state of near coma by this unexpected predicament, why is no one opening? he knocked again, and again, and again.

 He called the number and it did not pick up. In his fury, he knocked violently and the door open, a half-naked bold man in a shower towel looked at him angrily. "What do you want?" he shouted, "Why are you so damn persistent? get the fuck outta here".

 "I am ... so very sorry I thought this was my friend's house'' he said, shocked and mildly scared, "I thought this was my friend's house", he repeated, a little more confident. 

"Yeah right!", the bold one replied with a trace of a grin, "well it is not! now get the fuck outta here you've killed my mood!" and his anger returned. behind him appeared a shadow of a naked woman passing rapidly. He saw it but could not say anything, He has already lost this encounter. He had a sudden idea and called the hooker's cell, it rang inside the room but was abruptly cut. the two looked at each and the bald was furious, he charged a fat fist and was about to strike a blow but the other screamed abruptly: "No! alright, I'm leaving, I am fucking leaving just don't ... don't hit!"

The bald one looked at him for a second, then he punched.

Tail between the legs, nose starting to bleed, he left as the bold man was closing the door. He took the stairway and went down, as gloomy as a wet puppy.

As he was sitting at the bus station, waiting to go home, a  young couple walked in front of him, a young beautiful, mixed-race couple with an imminent grace to them; as if they were never dirty in their lives or as if the concept of mismatch just does not exist. he looked at them enviously, the boy was younger than him but seemed much more composed and ever so graceful. he hated it, with all his heart, his life, his circumstances, his past and future, all of it. He realized that he will never have that and it broke his heart. The young boy looked at him and approached

- "Hi", said the youngster

- "hello"

- "I know this is inappropriate, but I want to know the brand of your shoes".

- "Yeah sure, but I don't know if you could find them anywhere, they came out as a special series".

- "What a shame! these are some fine stompers".

- "I'll take what you have over these damn shoes any day", he said as he looked at the girl, absent-mindedly

- "Excuse me !", said the youngster, surprised

- "Nothing, I ... I am sorry I am having a strange day ... I mean..."

The youngster left before he could get to explain himself, he whispered to the girl and they went away, then he looked back while leaving: get help!

The bus came and he got in, a small breeze tickled his chin and earlobes and made him smile, he reflected on his day and could not help but smile a little: you play a really mean game, and I just can't express how much I love you for it!