Past imperfect

The blood is rushing in his ears. His vision is blurred and flashes. But yet he finds her. There she is, standing in front of him, smiling tenderly. Saintly. She is illuminated by an inner radiance, an unearthly light seems to flow from her divine red hair. She looks only at him. For the first time in so many years, she looks only at him, and at no-one else.

She is dressed in white, like angels on icons. Behind her, he sees flickering pearl-white wings fluttering in the air. She opens her arms to embrace him and hug him to her chest. There are terrible wounds on her palms. She had suffered so much, his poor girl. His only love. His eternal love, for which he would do anything. For her he would kill, betray and destroy anything and anyone. She was his bliss.

She calls him and he heads to her, bursting into tears. Now he knows what happiness feels like. His love has embraced him. He goes to her, seeing nothing but her. He has found her and he would never let her go. She has embraced him and loved him. Tears roll from his eyes but he does not feel them.

One step, one more step. That's how those who reach the gates of heaven feel, he knows for sure. He ascends to her. His body feels light as air. He shines in the light coming from her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices something that could not be real. The world around him freezes like an ice block. Everything around is grinning and laughing at him. He turns his head and sees blood. Blood on the bedsheets. Almost losing consciousness, he sees bloodstains spreading, flooding everything around with an unstoppable endless crimson stream. He hears a crash and the sound of thunder. It was pieces of his body falling into hell. He is falling apart, revealing his immortal soul.

Brute!

A roar of pain escapes from his throat. His heaven bursts into flames of Gehenna, and he burns alive in them. He feels his hopes burning in the flames. His whole life burns. His blood boils and evaporates, leaving only bubbling stinking acid behind.

Fallen!

He looks at her and sees signs of decay on her face. The decomposition peels the skin off her darkened skull. Her eyes burn with a devilish light. She has betrayed him. She lied to him.

Harlot!

His hands shake feverishly. The hot air cannot get past his throat, causing him to choke. A red veil covers his eyes. The gun in his hand dances, bursting with life. But it's all right, she is close enough. He will not miss.

He sees the horror on her face, and this horror spreads over his broken heart like molasses.

He pulls the trigger.

"Hermes" was uncommonly crowded today. Lera virtually hopped into the busy office and beamed at everyone.

"Ciao tutti!" she blurted out, searching for a free hook on the coat rack.

"Hola!" Lena was the first to respond.

"Grüß!" The elfish Tasia replied after her.

"Hi!" miniature snub-nosed Alissa waved her hand.

Greetings in different languages came from all directions. Lera shook off the snow from her shoulders and tried to dust it out of her hair. Her mood was great. You bet it was! Today it was the last working day of the year and, let's face it, it wasn't really much of a working day.

Even half an hour before the start of the working day, it was impossible to find sufficient space to as much as drop an apple. Frankly, their work as simultaneous interpreters is done not in the office, but rather while travelling. And, generally speaking, freelance staff do written translations right from home. Therefore, usually, "simultos" appear in the office only for a short period of time, just to sign documents.