Tokyo to Tijuana: Gabriele Departing AmericaSills, Steven David Justin
General
Tokyo to Tijuana: Gabriele Departing America
Sills, Steven David Justin
Fiction
might fall prey but never with two of them; and she was tiers beyond the
ordinary.
Self-declared as a female who was not a woman, Gabriele was a hard block of ice
to thaw. Even an exceptional Adonis with a coruscating and speciously ingenuous
smile did not have a chance with her. Only such an Adonis as Michael, with a
familiar and sweet son whom she had already thought of fondly, had the
potential to do the worst damage to her pristine Antarctic surface; but such
happenings were rare indeed. The two strangers instantly made her circumspect
and guarded by accosting her with their sexual innuendos, which she did not
even have to understand in words. The nuances were rife like the sounds of
locusts in the unfolding and draping blanket of night. They were there to be
extrapolated in the intensity of lust-filled, hungry-hound looks and the
flippant glances and general levity of the two males toward each other. And she
knew that, as adept as she might be at defending herself with a bit of judo and
karate, that she could never ward off an army of rapists. That being the case,
she backed away to belong only to the day.
By day she was enamored by all of the mom-and-pop shops cobbled together from
wood and tin and the activity that was bustling around them including the
orange cockroach tricycle motor taxis a bit like Thailand's tuc tucs. She
wanted to sink into the skin of those whom she encountered and to know of their
lives intimately. The thought even occurred to her that she should get her boy
from the provincial rednecks of Kansas and transform him with exposure to the
world; and she would have done just that had there not been such a cloying and
bitter after- taste to all this enlightenment amassing itself within her. It
was a sickeningly aggrandizing clump that was exacerbating itself within her
stomach; and it made her doubt the efficacy of the plan. It was getting so
large that she, who grazed on the weeds and fodder of stark reality like a wild
mare, was finding what she saw and her ruminations of it virtually unbearable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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