Read Faces in Time for Free Online

tonight to commit this foreign act when it lifted the hat off the folding chair, leaving it reluctant to do so again. The images come to his mind of the awful news reports that were airing when he left of Rhonda’s bizarre surgery. Finally his five-fingered grudging thief grabs hold of the steel wool, and he is quite happy to find that it’s dry. The grimy grill and un-emptied deep-fryers can attest to its unused condition. He squeezes it tightly in his fist, and its jagged edges dig into his skin slightly.
    He walks out of the room quickly and makes a hard left to the bathroom. The door is opened. He steps inside, flips on the light, shuts the door, and slides its simple lock into position. He tugs on the handle to make sure it’s secure.
    He fumbles in his pocket and takes out the device. Flipping it over quickly, he slides his thumb roughly over the battery panel. He drops the thin plastic cover to the ground as he hears the sound of heels approaching noisily down the hallway. He hopes it is the two he saw moments ago carrying out the trashcan, but their patter does not stop at the kitchen.
    He can hear them talking loudly as they reach the door.
    “ My Stephen was the star of the show. I tell you that boy has such talent. He certainly doesn’t get any of it from his father. Now, what is this, is someone in the restroom?”
    “Yes, Doris, it looks to be occupied.”
    Doris raps her fingers on the door harshly, “Anyone in there?”
    “Ummm, yes, it’ll be just a minute.”
    “Well, please, try to hurry,” commands Doris as she turns her gaze to her counterpart, “Now, Stacey, it is truly commendable that they gave your Tabitha a song to sing this time. It’s great that they’re getting everyone involved.”
    Stacey starts, “Well, she certainly did a wonderf-”
    His ears block out their conversation as he places the device back in his pocket, holding its battery in his hand. Glancing up at the ceiling, he sees what he’s looking for. He sits the battery on the counter beside the sink, and then ripping the steel wool in half, he kneads a piece of it into a skinnier and denser shape. He puts the steel wool on the counter and touches the battery’s positive and negative terminals to it. The wool turns red, and the sparks move and spread across its shredded metallic fibers as if it were a virus coursing over it. He leans down and blows on it; the sparks flame up, and he holds his rolled-up play program over it. The flames scorch the program, but he continues to hold it steady and blow over the wool until the paper has its own flame.
    The knocking returns to the door, followed by, “Two ladies out here need use of the facilities, sir.”
    “It’ll be a minute, madam,” he says without glancing in the direction of the door.
    He can hear her voice saying, “I hope it doesn’t smell horribly in there. Well, anyway, Stacey, it’s great that they’re letting your daughter try this year; it’s not right to always give the best kids the spotlight, and I always say…”
    He grabs the faucet with his free hand, and places his right foot atop the small counter around the sink. With an awkward lunge, he pulls his other foot to the left side of the sink, accidentally smacking the tip of his program against the mirror. Standing straddled over the sink, he reaches up holding the still burning program and waves it directly in front of the smoke detector.
    He coughs. The room is getting a little hazy. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes widen as nothing happens.
    “Are you smoking in there?”
    “No. Now please give me some privacy.”
    “I’ll bet he’s smoking in there,” Doris says in a whisper that is more of an exasperated version of her regular speech than it is quiet.
    Stacey offers, “Maybe it’s the popcorn. You know they always burn it at every school function.”
    The playbill is mostly black, and it begins to fold over the back of his hand. The heat scalds his skin, and after another moment of