What Is Love?
I sit alone at the table as Haddaway’s 90s dance classic ‘What is Love?’ beats out from the speakers. A candle flickers in the middle of the silverware for romantic effect. No food. No partner… Not yet.
My heart thumps in the double-time rhythm of the song. I watch the door. Sweat trickles off my ring finger and onto the plastic carpet. The song finishes, but then starts again on its repeat cycle, as if the first dozen plays were simply rehearsals before the guest of honour arrives.
At the start of the fourteenth rotation she crashes into the room like a well-timed cymbal. She pushes a trolley with two covered platters on top, wearing nothing but a rubber butcher’s apron.
Our eyes meet and my breath catches in my throat. With a sweet smile she lifts the lids off of the platters in front of her. On one lays a hatchet. On the other, a small crossbow.
My wrists chafe against the ropes that hold me to the chair. My regret at having stood her up last Valentine’s Day is overwhelmed with abject fear.
She smiles again and picks up the crossbow, pointing it at my thigh.
Without a word she pulls the trigger.
I cry out as the heart-shaped bolt slams into my femur.
She turns up the music and picks up the hatchet.
Haddaway croons on over my screams.
“What is love? Baby don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, no more.”
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