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“My skin’s starting to itch,” I muttered, loud enough for Sevilla to hear through the widened divider beside me. The limo exited the neighbourhood with the usual brigade of trucks following. Out the window the vibrant fur coat of my neighbourhood was tossed aside for the drab grey suit of its surroundings. Ugh.What a palpable silence.“I believe I said, ‘My skin’s starting to itch,’ mon… cur,”—hah—“to which, as I’m sure you’re aware, to the point that I may begin taking offence,”—especially at your pay—“the desired response is…”That better not have been a sigh.“Of course, sir, how unfortunate. Please, elaborate if you will.”Argh! That shearing monotone.“Se-vil-la!” I peered through the opening. “Would you like to try that again, mon cur?” I asked, through the clench of my jaw.“Not particularly,” she mumbled with the dullness of the grey concrete towering around us.I took out my phone and tapped against its screen audibly.“Oh, how unfortunate. Based on your performance, I suppose I’ll just have to adjust your salary—”“How unfortunate, Augustine, sir! Please, elaborate if you will!” she reiterated.“Much better! It seems you’re worth all those pennies after all.” Of course, that’s obvious, the alternative being me hiring anything less than the best? Hah! Though the fact I have to pay her is certainly a slight. It’s nothing less than a privilege to do my bidding! Sigh. I suppose she is only human. “Flaws,” being the only requirement, it’s almost a boon hers is money! There’s plenty of that.I looked at her in the mirror and shook my head. Ahhh, that bright red livery, the gold sequins, that bulbous feather in her hat! Perfect. To be charged extra only to give her the opportunity to wear such a wonderful uniform! That’s the true misdeed. Of course, her face is also second to none, well, except to myself, of course. Oh, she’s looking at me. What an odd expression, she doesn’t often show glee when working. Not without compensation. I wonder why—“Oh, sir! Do be careful with those documents! We wouldn’t want to spend extra time at John’s!” she exclaimed.I looked at the attaché case opposite me. Pages, with numbers scrawled about, peered up from the lip, “What do you…” Are we speeding up?The limo soared. I wonder when that feature got added? Here’s to the best and all that, but I should be informed when such— Oh, hello gravity. Across from me, the attaché and its slurry of documents, carefully arranged to limit the time spent around John, was floating above its seat.I leapt after it.Thud.That was too close! Is that sweat on the back of my neck?“Apologies, unavoidable speed bump... Tsk.”I glanced at Sevilla and gulped. With a quick rifle through the pages to make sure the documents were still in order, I carefully packed them below the lip of the opening and locked it.… And put on its seatbelt.“S-Sevilla, mon… c-coeur, please”—what is that incessant clacking?—“anything but that.” Oh, it’s my teeth.“Whatever could you mean, sir?” she asked.“I mean doing anything that could lead to spending more time with John! The man would bore the paint off walls, not to mention the tearing of soul from body!” Though getting the beige off his walls would be a marked improvement. “If the documents weren’t so sensitive we wouldn’t even be headed in his general direction! You know, I’ve always made an effort to have the best of things. After all, if the best exists, why shouldn’t one strive for it? But, on days like today,”—I squinted at Sevilla—“I’m reminded just how high the costs are.”Can a smile be evil?“Well, sir,”—the divider made a shrill noise as it closed—“for some, the cost is the only reason we’re here!” she said, with inspiring joviality.The rest of the trip, I’m told, was long and winding, though I don’t believe that for a moment. How could an hour have passed already? Surely, it was only seconds since I heard the click of the divider shutting. Surely, it was only milliseconds since I pleaded for a delay. Surely, a wrong turn isn’t so difficult to make. The problem with hiring the best is they always manage to do their jobs.The limo came to a stop. I heard the brigade of trucks follow suit and, shortly after, a rambunctious bustle started outside, accenting the inevitable. There was a rustling from beyond the divider. Sevilla, preparing. My eyes drifted to the attaché sitting across me.“Damn you,” I said, “you’re a plague. No, worse! You don’t kill, you maim. Then return, a chronic ailment, to seep a man’s strength and rip apart his soul!”The sounds of fabric unfurling tore through the bustle outside. I closed my eyes and caught my falling head.“To make a decent man, a measured man of piety and humble acumen, choicelessly partake in the chronic stripping of flesh by the pound…”The sounds outside stopped. I heard Sevilla’s door open, then shut.“To bind one of touch so common to inevitability.” I sighed, “What has the world come to?”The door opened and the symphony began to play. Sevilla reached in and grabbed the attaché. The royal blue of her attendant’s uniform swaggered by my eyes before her gloved hand made a sweeping gesture to punctuate my exit. Her ability to change uniforms is impressive, though she only seems to get faster when we’re somewhere I don’t want to be.“Y-you know, i-it is only right for a member of the fashion industry to be fashionably late…” I said, with a glimmer of hope.She waited silently. I removed my top hat, set it gently on the seat, and stepped out onto the red carpet. The trumpets blared with each step I took towards that grey door that waited, unchanged since last year. Not even the adorable faces of the gathering crowd could lift my spirits.Who dresses their home… their home, in such simplicity!? A teal slanted roof capped the single-story house with walls made of wood panelling painted in the man’s favourite colour, beige. Though, I should at least forgive him for that. After all, remembering one’s parents is important and him being the spawn of beige and white bread… Well, certain considerations must be made.Only the porch steps now. I see Sevilla’s speaking to the band. Making arrangements for my wake, I’m sure. Last chance to make a break for it. Just as I turned to escape, Sevilla, with apparent speed matching that of light, was already standing next to me. The door to Hell, I’m convinced, will be beige.I pressed the off-white button by the door which gave birth to a horrible clanging. Was it the button or what the button was to bring that caused my hand to shudder? Before I could give it thought, the door swung open and revealed the utter lack of inspiration it dutifully kept separate from the world.“Hello, Augustine,” said John in that perfect monotone that churned my stomach.“H-hi,”—Oh, God… It’s rushing up my throat—“J-John.”It masquerades as human, sure enough, but I know the colour grey when I see it, even if it’s gained sentience! I gulped the bile back down. John Doe. Even the name lacks all manner of ingenuity.“Oh, and hello, Sevilla. Lovely to see you again this year. Seems you’ve finally found a fit, Augustine.” John smiled at Sevilla who gave a curt nod in return.“Well then, shall we?” I said.“Ah yes”—wonderful—“Oh, where are my manners?” —damn you, John—“How have you been? ” he asked.Oh, to watch paint dry would be the talk of a lifetime, one of the many spent in John’s company! “Well, fashion’s an ever-changing industry, keeps things interesting; much the way I like them. Speaking of, it seems things haven’t changed here. Door’s still the same height, as expected. Glad I left the hat behind.”“Oh, well, you are always more than welcome to remove it at the door and wear it again once inside,” he said, devoid of mockery.“Or just bend under the frame,” Sevilla added, full of it.“No! To b-bow at the gates of Hell would be a fate worse than death…but t-thank-you…” There’s that churning again. “A-and I’m sure you’ve still given no thought to my request?”The blob of grey laughed.“What a wonderfully lighthearted note to begin on. Shall we?” He headed in with the perverse knowledge we must follow.“Grey—er, John! It wasn’t a joke! I will wire the amount this instant if you’d just. Change. Your. Name!”The laughter continued from inside squashing another year of hope. I stepped inside the ramshackle hovel where dreams found their tombstones and felt my aura of extravagance immediately dissolve(the dullest method of dissipation).“Why… why did it have to be him?” I muttered for Sevilla’s ears, “couldn’t there be anyone better?”What a measured lack of response. But, I must let it pass. I need every bit of energy I’ve got.I trudged upon the laminate flooring. It might as well be quicksand, but that would require personality, nonetheless, it seeped my vigour with every step. Lifting my eyes was a mistake, the beige walls—Oh no, here comes the bile! I clamped my mouth shut with my hand. No! Wait… perhaps I should let it free. Wouldn’t this den of simplicity be so much better with a bit of me on it?Just as my thoughts hit upon the shores of dangerous revelations, Sevilla chimed in, “Sir, you’ve taken five steps! Any slower and we may have to spend the night here!”I’m reminded that fear has its uses. I rushed along through a hallway, avoiding my gaze the best I could, using that laughter(the one that found its home on the makeshift line between sincerity and monotony) for direction. Ugh, would it kill him to put up a painting? Oh, and that table! For dining? It only seats four! What miserable gatherings he must have, but who would gather? Not knick-knacks! Oh, the vomit’s returning. Must look away! No, not at the quicksand!I collapsed to my knees with my eyes closed, looking in the only place where looking wouldn’t hurt.“Sir—”“Please, Sevilla! Just one minute to bolster myself,” I said, stopping her.“Oh my, what is wrong with Augustine, Sevilla?” the grey asked.Damn! Couldn’t I get one minute?!
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing John, though… he did mention something about his skin itching earlier… Hmm,” she said.Think happy thoughts Augustine.“Oh dear, though I’ve never heard of a rash bringing someone to their knees. A rather unique weakness. Should we call an ambulance?”Weak? No, no… Think. The villa on the coast.“He’ll be fine! He just requires a cour—”“Cour?”The silk sheets of purple.“—to heal his damaged coeur—”“C-coeur?”The gold trimmings.“—and I’m sure he’ll be cured!”“Ah… Is that so?”The sea breeze.“That, or a dog to kick. Sorry, a cur.”A pill of cyanide.“You’ve lost me, Sevilla…”“Hey, is your favourite colour really beige?”“No… It’s actually-”“That’s enough! Can you not respect a man’s—” W-what is it my open eyes are seeing right now?Before me, surrounded by audacious simplicity was something… I dare say, interesting. But, it couldn’t be… John? And yet… I… I can’t look away!“John.” I kept my eyes locked on the curious object.“Augustine?”“Pray, tell, what is this… thing of beauty?”“Umm… what do you mean?”The audacity of this blob.“Well, I think it’s quite obvious, but allow me to explain for those lacking the ‘I’ in ‘IQ!’ This curiosity lying before my eyes is elegant, nay, exquisite. Look, how it’s capped by a curved handle with a thin and delicate rail shooting forth, bringing to mind the sabres of the musketeers. The fine blade leading one’s eyes to a crystalline barrier, who’s sheen sparks the imagination. What doth it protect?! And further down, resting upon the filth—er, floor, is what I could only describe as Giza, upholding the dreams and elegance of its counterparts much like the pyramids did for their subjects. Marvellous!”A lifetime passed as John’s company greeted me with silence.“Well?” I asked, looking between two bewildered faces.“Err… could you maybe point?” John asked.Devastating. To be brought so low by John’s simple mind. I lifted my finger, which shook uncontrollably, and clarified.“Oh,” said John.“Oh!” said Sevilla… Huh?“Well, it is nothing special Augustine. Rather, how have you never seen one before? I know you employ a large cleaning staff.”“The cleaning staff? Hmph! Though I struggle to find the connection, I expect my cleaning to be done out of sight so that I, in turn, may keep it out of mind!” As it should be, “And, Sevilla, mon coeur, I hate to break it to you, but this oddly chipper disposition of yours will not be compensated for.”“Oh, not a problem sir. This is a true pleasure!” Odd, that delight, and in any other circumstance concerning. But, in the all-consuming blandness John suffocates me with, Sevilla’s a necessary pop of colour.“Well, if that is the case Augustine, perhaps I should not say. After all, I would not want to bring it to mind.”Is he serious?“John… p-please”—Hold steady my innards!—“tell me.”John’s hand scratched against the back of his head, no doubt spreading flecks of grey.“Well… since you seem so desperate,” he said.Desperate?I seem…To John…?My pupils rolled back as my consciousness made its escape. Oh, it’s actually quite lovely back here. No painful sights to bring me to my knees, just memories; the soirees, the lush purple sheets… lavish life on repeat. Ahh.Wait.No!I mustn’t trap myself here. Not when something so pure, so undoubtedly good in this godforsaken spit of land called “John’s Home” is right in front of me. Return consciousness, and tell me, John! Tell me!“It’s a vacuum.”Sevilla has such a lovely laugh. Like little pops of colour.“A V-v-vacoom, yes, that must be what you said?”—pop pop pop—“It must be something of unheard value… possessing of greatness, yes?”—So colourful—“Touched by Kings and Gods, and only due to some unforgivable turn of fate has found itself, here, in your abode? Yes?” My voice did not squeak.“No, sir! A vacuum!” Argh! The popping! “You know! The kind a maid might clean with.”“Yes, which is why I found it odd you had never seen one before. With maids being one of your largest expenses… Which, in a delightful turn of events, brings us to today’s meeting!”Oh, John is capable of joy it seems. A vacuum. A happy John… John is… happy. A vacuum. Haha, grey, the colour of joy. A vac—“So, Augustine, if you’re alright, shall we head to the office? We really should get started on your taxes!”T-taxes…The End.

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