(blood) Bathhouse

The haze of smoke hugged the lamp’s light.  We were all patiently waiting for his lecture.

He began with praise. “you are my best girls, you give the customers what they need.”

We lounge on the sunken chairs and the chaise, soaking in his sugared praise, awaiting for the negative storm to rain upon us. 

His oration continued, “there is always room for betterment, and you girls….” he stopped. His eyes filled with fear, a sight that he can only see. The darkness encircled him, as he grasped at his throat. Blood came pouring out, as if the levy had taken its final blow. His head fell flat.

I ran out, the brightness of the door led me to freedom of watching a man die.

I called for help through each door I opened.