Morning: A Heated Romantic Drama
A micro fiction about a wealthy man who stops fearing loss
The most dangerous man in the world is one who lost everything and has nothing to lose. The second most dangerous is one who achieved everything, yet has been trained to lose so much throughout his life he no longer fears it.
Hello loyal readers! Thank you again for tuning in. Today I got a micro fiction for you, one grounded in a modern setting this time. Honestly, not sure what came over me when I became inspired to write this - was just another idea that randomly popped into my head.
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Morning
The sun cracks through the horizon into the high-rise apartment, a home hard-fought for in New York City. He stands bare before the mirror, with the bathroom door narrowly propped open. Steam fumed into the bedroom following a heated shower. The gracious voice of Luciano Pavarotti echoed over a speaker, stirring his lady from her slumber. Naked, with frizzled hair, and his scent draping all over her, she rose from the bed and joined her mate in the bathroom. Her green eyes waned, begging for an extra hour of sleep. “Opera? You had me wake up to opera? Ugh.”
The man scraped the razor delicately across his chin, painted in shaving cream, and cutting off the excess hairs. “I’m not taking criticism from a Swiftie fan.”
Suddenly he felt a slap from her palm upon his arm. Rough, but not as rough as he was last night, “Unbelievable. Can’t believe I haven’t broken up with you yet.” She spoke, unclear whether her tone was flirtatious or bitter.
He too was unsure of what voice to choose. Either case, he had nothing to lose. “As they say: ‘if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.’ Speaking of which, what’s for breakfast?”
She folded her arms in defiance. “Nothing. Either make it yourself or order something.”
His ritual was concluding. He washed away the shaving cream and patted a towel, cleaning up the spare hairs. The song ended, and he planted his razor down callously. He turned to her, hazel eyes meeting hers. She turned away with a sour face, but his hand reached and forced her by the chin to look at him, compelling her to examine that exposed jawline, and his menacing stare, pouring raw testosterone. That stoic glare was enough to drive fear into anyone, an ominous gaze that read ‘I sacrificed a lot to get where I am today. I’m okay losing more, even if it means casting a potential bride back onto the streets. What about you?’
The unspoken bravado caused her to fold in foolish captivation, exposing her as predictable as all the female romance enthusiasts. “How about steak and eggs?”
He released his grip with a sardonic smile. “Sounds delightful.”
Days passed since that morning, and the wealthy man had much to contemplate – the responsibilities in his ventures, the security of his assets, his own physical and mental health. The core concern was of his legacy, and what he will leave behind, and to whom. This nagging thought gnawed at him for years, even before his rise to success. Yet he still had no children, even after the age of thirty-five. Jessica was pretty, and she had a few qualities in her that was desired (the breakfast she provided was more than acceptable.) Yet, she suffered fatal flaws of most women he’s encountered – flaws that Morgan could not afford when selecting his future bride. They fail to provide a satisfying time under the sheets, acting as lazy dolls in awkward tussles where he’s compelled to micromanage everything. His annoyance seemed to fuel the only passion that was felt that evening. What was most pressing, though, was they’re too rebellious, too quick to cause drama and unease. Jessica couldn’t even offer a “good morning,” instead choosing to criticize his taste of music.
How do I raise a child in a home where the mother is constantly hostile? What home can I return to when even my hobbies are condemned? He questioned.
The decision was made. As he sat in his luxury car in the parking lot of a humble bar and grill, he released the rejection letter on his burner, and broke his phone in half – another harlot never to be seen again.
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