The New York Times wraps around her consciousness in the harsh NYC sunlight, like cheap trash caught in a gust. If only she could be as NYC as that beautiful rag? Leather cap on and attitude to match, she cleans up the graffiti with a saintly smile. She feels at home here, down on the sidewalk, cleaning up these mean streets but she hides a deep dark secret. By day, she is the NYC Commander but at night she spray paints a new identity on these poor city walls. Drips of paint brush against her rubber mac soul as she fights two identities on these NYC streets.
She is a true NYC street fighter. But she has only one enemy.
How many moves does it take to checkmate? Three, ten, fifteen? Maybe. But what happens when you don’t even know you are playing chess anymore? You have attempted checkmate on me so many times that I lost count of the moves and the chess games played. I tried so so hard not to play chess with you. Tried to move on and let it go but you were still there with the chess board attempting to checkmate me. With all the key pieces and the centre stage, you always assumed you would checkmate me. You hounded me across the board relentlessly. For years. I always had to watch my back. Always watching the board. Always anxious. Always worried.
Then, eventually, you forgot that we were playing chess. You took your eye off the ball. You looked around for a second and I seized my chance. I took your queen and checkmated you in one move.
It took me years of chess but I finally checkmated you. I did something you never could.
He woke up with sunshine on his mind and music streaming in through net curtains. As his eyes blinked, he suddenly remembered that he was in Malibu in the middle of the afternoon and that meant only one thing. He slid open the door and stepped out into a fluorescent green lawn, light bouncing off light. He shut his eyes and started to dance and dance and dance. Malibu daylight dancing was always the best and he had forgotten how good it felt. Break dancing in the back yard, he was lost in a world of flora and fauna; a blur of hedonistic dancing joy. He was in sunny Malibu and he could forget about everything for one more day…
The blackest of woven silk was her uniform for tonight’s performance. She admired her glance in the ornate mirror in the ink room. She hastily tried to pat down spiky pixie hair but it was standing up on end. Never mind, with her translucent red mask in place, she was fully armed for the outside. And fully disguised.
She knew that her sad eyes reflected far too much, but the crimson red saturated the desolation and gave them a rouge mystery that was hard to read. And that was all she needed in order to mix in the crowd unnoticed.