Feedback would be awesome, as always.
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The street was quiet tonight. But Renee imagined most streets were at 3am. The sky was so clear, the moon shining like a jewel on the breastbone of Nyx. A light breeze touched her face as she left the parking lot and stepped lightly up the sidewalk. The sound of buzzing cicadas was all around her. Her hand had been in her pocket searching for her iPod, but she decided to leave it. The sounds were so soothing. She was content to walk home to them instead. She crossed Larwill Street and headed up Liberty, toward the old end of downtown.
Brenda would have scolded her for walking home alone this time of night. And she guessed there would have been some justice in that. Walking home alone at 3am could easily result in disaster. But she wasn't afraid.
This was the third night in a row she had closed the bar. She had volunteered for all the overtime she could get since Anders left. Anything to keep busy. Anything to keep her from thinking too much.
Downtown was so surreal this time of night. She passed Little Venice, with it's huge mural of a cliched Italian stereotype, holding a steaming pizza high in the air and smiling insipidly beneath a handle bar mustache.
She passed the Convenient Food Mart, with it's many neon signs advertising Bud Light and Lotto tickets. This was the place where the town's white trash population came to buy rotgut liquor and cheap smokes. But now, despite being all lit up, it was dead inside.
Next was Balcony Video, pretty much the only place in town where horny old men who weren't savvy enough to get their porn online could go rent it on VHS/DVD.
She saw the bell tower clock up ahead. The shining centerpiece of Liberty street, attached to the city courthouse. She remembered her first apartment, not too far from here on Bowman street. She used to love hearing that bell ring while at home. Something about it brought her comfort, especially when she was laying in bed late at night and heard it echoing through the stillness.
The bottle of coconut water she had purchased earlier in the evening was cold and damp in her hands. She decided she would sit in the gazebo next to the courthouse and drink it, while resting her aching feet.
She trudged on, passed the Greek restaurant, the frozen yogurt shop, the little trendy cafe', the health food store. She remembered that Anders used to go there all the time to buy Hemp seeds. He swore by them. He said they kept him from getting sick. Obviously not from getting sick in the head, she thought, and was immediately ashamed of herself for thinking it. She brushed that thought off like an annoying pest, and continued walking.
Finally she was standing beneath the bell tower. It was so quiet here that she could hear the clock ticking. What an impressive structure it was... 200 years old and right in the center of the city. Bearded, chiseled and bare chested men of stone gazed down at her from half way up the tower. At the top, two gargoyles were perched elegantly on either side of the clock.
Her thoughts drifted to a drunken night a few years ago. After a pretty eventful night out at a party her and Anders decided to come down here and wander around and take pictures. She had her big clunky Nikon with her. She took at least a dozen pictures of the tower. The sun was coming up when they finally headed home. And she was so sad to discover that all her pictures were blurry.
As she crossed the entrance to the parking lot and made her way toward the gazebo, something in the corner of her eye made her stop. It was a pale glimmer of green, moving on the black asphalt. She looked down to see a beautiful Luna moth, about a foot away from her. It's wings flapped frantically, yet it did not take flight. There was a certain clumsiness to it's movement that didn't seem right. She bent down to look closer, setting her coconut water down. It was on it's back, trapped, and one of it's wings was broken.
"Oh, you poor thing." she whispered. She reached out and tried to pick it up, but it fluttered away from her hand. Then, in one swift motion, she cupped her hands together beneath it and managed to flip it over. Now it could at least walk on it's feet. And it did walk, in staggering circles, it's wings beating madly at the air, like green wisps of animated silk.
She thought since it couldn't fly, she could at least move it to a safer place. Someone would drive right through here in the morning and run it over. It's not like it could fly away. She cupped her hands around it again and slowly stood, careful not to drop the fluttering ball of energy in her hands. Once she was standing completely upright, it toppled out of her hands and plopped back onto the asphalt.
She felt awful, but forced herself to walk away. She tried to tell herself it was for the best. If she moved it to the grass it would have starved to death. Being crushed by a car was a more merciful death.
She crossed to the gazebo, which was lit up with small flood lights around it's base. She climbed the three concrete steps leading up to it, and went inside. Seated in a place that allowed her to see the tower, she popped open her bottle of coconut water and took a long, indulgent gulp. She let it move over her tongue, savoring it's cool sweetness. Just then the bell rang once, indicating it was 3:30.
People at work kept asking er how she was holding up. She didn't really have a straight answer for them. Of course she faked it. "Oh I'll be alright. Life goes on right?" It had been two weeks, and she hadn't really grieved. Yes, she missed him, terribly, but the emotional floodgates hadn't opened yet. She considered that her dysfunctional childhood and recent events with him had hardened her to this kind of pain. It was unlikely, but possible. She hadn't talked to him since the day it happened. And she desperately missed his voice, his accent, his laugh. But she didn't know if contacting him was a good idea.
She took another sip and thought again about the moth. "I can't save everyone." she told herself.
He phone, which had been sitting silently beside her this whole time, suddenly came to life, lighting up and vibrating. "Who the hell is calling me at this time of the--" she thought, grabbing it hastily. The answer should have been obvious.
She picked it up, "Hello?"
"Renee." the deep, accented voice on the other line said.
A few yards away, the moth still fluttered on the pavement, helpless, alone, and waiting to die...
You're now ready for the hardest thing to do with writing.