LUFTMENSCHEN
Original work by LJ Kessels
Content Warning: This piece features explicit sexual acts, classical music and a violent accident.
On a Monday morning, August 8th, an accident on the 24 left 35 dead and 70 injured.
Something with: an empty forest, filled with spurs, steam coming from the gully, and a burning barge on the bayou. Cocaine lines on the chest while smoking a thick cigar; dirty feet on a plastic-covered couch. Breaking an egg on a portrait of the assassinated leader. Trees illuminated by the night into majestic white statues unhindered by time. A dark sea foaming, bin bag floating while sitting down for a cup of tea with breasts exposed. Empty parking lots in a light optic and images of running through the streets. Hands placed on the head and peering over the eastern sea. She is stroking his hair while receiving head. A body slightly out of focus. The landscape left black against a light sky; buggery next-door to unsullied people dressed in white; the roaring sound of a bustling café comes in from nowhere.
Anton Arensky’s piano trio №1 in D Minor first movement comes from the apartment upstairs.
Maybe he should stop drinking altogether, he thought to himself as the dry taste greeted him. He contemplated getting out of bed for a drink. There was someone next to him. Maybe she could get up and get it. She told him yesterday that she actually liked the taste of cocaine in her mouth; the insurmountable chemical afterthought of a night binging on the white powder with a nondescript woman, combined with cigarettes, a bottle of port each and the knowledge that he wouldn’t call tomorrow, whenever that to morrow might actually begin. Someone asked for the time. Someone replied. Someone asked if that was in the a- or p.m. He pushes the empty pizza box on the edge of the bed away with his feet, causing the mirror, credit card and piece of straw to fall to the floor. He coughs and falls asleep again.
Anton Arensky’s piano trio №1 D Minor third movement comes from the apartment upstairs.
She’s on her stomach, her head turned toward him as he draws circles on her thighs and ass. Dissecting each cut of meat like a seasoned butcher. “I love touching you,” he whispers. Her response is just a moan. She should have left in the morning, but he had begged her to stay and soon enough the night returned and she had given in.
“How unfortunate to be reduced to the circumstance of one’s death.”
“How do you mean?” he asks while playing with her hands.
“Your whole life reduced to choking on a piece of chicken, being crushed by a vending machine or a remnant of a Soviet space station.” He smiles and pulls her hips up in order to mount her.
Nothing comes from the apartment upstairs.
“I have to go,” she says, while they lay there again, their legs intertwined and his hand gently twisting her nipple. “You’ve said that before,” he says with a smile on his face while he kisses her neck. “I’ve meant it before,” she replies, “but then it turned dark again.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “But I need to go home, take a shower and get some sleep before work.” “I’m not keeping you,” he says and lifts his leg from hers, like a peeing dog. She laughs, crawls off of the bed, and finds her bra in the living room where the cat had been snuggling with the black velvet. Fully dressed she reenters the bedroom, climbs on top of him, kisses him and says “Until whenever.” The same line he’d used many times before — he must have told her that. He laughs like a B-movie villain.
Anton Arensky’s piano trio №1 D Minor fourth movement comes from the apartment upstairs.
She pulls the door shut; the skin around her face is red and raw from making out for days, and she tries to cover it up with a scarf. She whispers a shopping list to herself as she walks to the subway station: morning-after pill, moisturizer, bottled water, fresh juice, fruit. She goes up the steps while looking for her pass inside her pockets and stands on the subway platform waiting for her line to come. Someone on the platform is playing a familiar classical piece on the cello; a man adjusts a backpack on a child. All she wants is a shower and her own bed. She steps into the subway car, sits down, closes her eyes and exhales. As the subway car leaves the station, a support beam breaks and the train hits the street below.
