Free Uncollected Blood by Daniel J. Kirk Page A

laughed.
    “Forget about it, all’s well that ends well.”
     
    THE END.
     
     

 
THE GREATEST TRICK
     
     
    It had been done. No matter what I could’ve done that might’ve convinced me otherwise; it was far too late to try.
    Beyond me the cold Manhattan morning doesn’t want the sun to break through the clouds. The wind laughed its way between the tall buildings, smacking the poor excuses for trees as it whisked by.
    My nose was cold, but my hands can’t move to warm it as they fight to keep freezing. Only my ears burn.
    It was far too late. It had been done.
    What use did it make to repeat the words in my head over and over again? Maybe in hopes to numb my mind to the cold pulling its way through my nostrils with every breath?
    I still felt the shame though. At least that kept my veins from icing over, reminding me I was still alive. I shouldn’t be shameful for I have saved myself from damnation. I was right. They were wrong. All of them.
    Every last one of them.
    Maybe the shame dwelled upon me because my choice was just because I feared what could be as opposed to believing what I was doing was actually the right thing? Maybe.
    No one wakes throughout Manhattan today. It’s just my eyes that scan the city skyline. Searching the streets for someone, anyone, who had lucked out like me. Had anyone else had enough fear of a possibility that they saved themselves?
    No. There’s no one.
    Not a soul. Even the birds know what has finally taken place. I haven’t heard a bird in months. But maybe they all flew south. I hope so. I hope they are still alive. Maybe there are others, and they are just smart enough to stay indoors on this morning.
    Perhaps they’re still wrapped up tightly in their beds, afraid to venture out because they know that it had been done. The greatest trick.
    The greatest trick.
    My knees jolted back into place as I rose up to my feet, I must be going now. My cheeks were flush with a sudden rush of blood, at once everything seemed clear to me, and then everything goes in and out of focus. But the air…the air feels so clean.
    There is a card shop a few blocks away. They don’t just sell cards. They sell flowers to go with the cards, and chocolate candies and coffee and teas. They sell elegant pens and pencils with twirls and goofy fuzzy erasers. They have a window full of books for your coffee table, cookbooks for every holiday and theme, and collections of photos of almost every photographical subject. They sell prints of famous masterpieces in all shapes and sizes. And have cards just the same with a goofy message on the inside.
    I pick up the Mona Lisa. I have never liked her smile. On the front of the card it says, “I know why she smiles.” Inside the card reads “you would be smiling too if you knew you would never be as old as your mother! ’
    I suppose it’s supposed to be funny in one of those rude sarcastic ways. It’s in the section labeled : Birthday – Mothers .
    I shouldn’t have broken the door. The wind seemed to crawl its way through picking up the nature of the shattered glass and cutting through the warmth that still slightly hung in the card shop.
    I wasn’t here for the cards, even though I couldn’t help flipping through a few more. I’d never really bought a card before. I’d received plenty, but I never saw the point in them. They seemed to lack substance for me. But someone must’ve gotten something out of them. Look at how many of them there are.
    No, I wasn’t here for the cards, even thought they could be used to start a fire, and I wasn’t here for the chocolate, or the coffee or the tea. Or for the cash that was probably in a safe somewhere close. None of that mattered anymore. I reminded myself again: it had been done .
    I still wasn’t numb yet.
    On a top shelf they still had three of them stacked on each other. Three of the best selling board games ever made: The Black Hole .
    The Black Hole wasn’t any board game. It was the first board