Pink Missiles

 

“Think globally…”

Tick tick tick tick tick tick ticktickticktick 

A young man is bored and playing with his pen. He opens the window of the high rise. The hush of darkness and anticipation immediately surrounds him. Wild lights stutter in the distance and the DJ starts playing. He sits in an uncomfortable chair and watches as perfect people walk the runway. They glitter like diamonds in the flashing lights. Everything is black and silver. Posh. Someone refills the drink in his hand and he sits back comfortably and observes the newest line of fashion.

“Do you think you can do that?”

I can do anything.

There’s a slight rumble of laughter that almost breaks the spell. A model winks at the young man. He stands and throws back his drink. It is crisp and carbonated and feels sobering. He vaults on the catwalk and looks down at his new clothes. They’re black and perfectly tattered and he’s got rags on his feet. The cameras go wild and his face is set in stone as he walks ahead as if he belongs there. Backstage he’s met with fluttering hands pecking at his hair and pressing for a change in clothes. A white haired young woman fixes his makeup.

“When can we expect the launch?”

I’m ready now.

In the mirror, he sees the new side of himself. A smoky eye and long flowing hair. He sets his face in position and steps onto the runway of lights. Feels like black glass under his toes and inside he can see galaxies. 

The lights come back on and he squints around at his colleagues. 

“Anyone have any questions?”

The young man nods and makes eye contact with his boss. “Are you sending out the file for the presentation? I’d like to review these changes thoroughly.”

His boss smiled, pleased. “Yes, of course.”

The young man leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. It would be lunch time soon.