Willard’s eyes sparkled as his pupil’s reflected the goldenrod bronze that radiated from his “rival’s” clean head. The minute divots indented into the darker skin of the man ahead of the podium on the opposite side of the stage left him breathless. A scarlet tinge burned Willard’s cheeks and brought his breath to a heated gasp. It was only when the older man ahead of the two pointed out Willard’s sudden daze did he snap back to reality and from the dark chocolate fountain of obscene benevolence that was Barack’s perfect dome.
Willard looked down at the note cards set ahead of him on the table where his wrists trembled. A quick glance to his opponent and the mediator followed by a starstruck gape to his mouth only gave a soft whimper from the back of Willard’s throat. It was unlike him to get caught with the sly grin of Barack, especially when it left Willard this long to respond.
The nearly squeaked, clearing his throat immediately after holding back the sound and retorted a meek “No comment.”
The man was rich beyond belief, and yet in the presence of his love, he was nothing. He was a spec of dust, sparking at the tip to only light to a brighter dot for a single moment. His days were running out. November was rearing its ugly nostrils, flared wide and filled with ballets. Willard had only weeks to pull his chance with Barack; no matter the wicked hag that stood their path.
Anne had been terminated for months now. It was at that time when Willard realized his true desire, and had her replaced. His lips occasionally twitch to a grin when he remembered her screams, the drills that ripped her limbs from her torso and the skin peeled off to put onto his now favored mechanical automaton of a wife. It only costed half a fortune. Half of which was meant to pay off those who had created his majestic illusion into silence.
And of course the children: genetically engineered to have the same features as the two. The true Anne within disgusted Willard. They were nothing like the children he had imagined to be for him and his beloved.
Willard frowned at the pictures hung along the hallways, every lie he had made, every destruction of nature. It was all necessary though.
To reach his love.
To be continued….
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