Condensation

The world wavers in and out of focus. Shapes and colors melt, morph, and mold together into strange patterns as I attempt to maintain balance in my drunken state. It’s a far more difficult task than you might expect, despite the fact I'm sitting down. I'm having little to no success and, as I sway, I catch myself on the glass pane to my right, leaving fingerprints of condensation as I pull away. They slowly fade and in my drunken stupor their disappearance leaves me unreasonably depressed. Seeking forgiveness for their untimely demise, I lean close and unleash a torrent of hot, fetid air out of my mouth, causing the glass to fog up. My fingerprints resurface, as if by magic.

Upon seeing this supposed sorcery, a grin creeps its way onto my face and, as I stare at the traces of oil left from my fingertips, a long line of drool dribbles from my mouth, bungee jumping its way towards the concrete. I quickly suck it up and it overshoots, smacking onto my cheek, where it sticks and is instantly forgotten. I continue to breathe all over the glass panels, fog gathering and then fading as seconds tick past. The moisture in my breath turns to droplets that run down the translucent material, forming miniature river deltas.

Hand in hand, a man and woman approach outside, the man holding an umbrella aloft in his free hand. They walk by just as my mouth is getting ready for another warm, lung powered maelstrom.

I can only imagine what I look like to them.My face a mere fraction of an inch from the glass. My mouth stretched wide open, as I stare them down from where I stand, alone in the middle of the night. I struggle to maintain a straight face, but the mental image sends me into a fit of hysterical giggles. I press my mouth up against the cool glass and rub it all around, keeping my eyes fixed on the couple, attempting to unnerve them. The woman looks at me, but the man grabs her around the waist and hurriedly pulls her along. His reaction makes me laugh even harder until an unruly hiccup sends a jolt through my entire body, throwing me off balance and depositing me onto the floor.

I'm lying in a smoker's booth near a bar I recently departed from. Rain is pouring down outside, harder than I've ever seen the past few years, the steady drum roll on the booth's roof a comforting sort of white noise. I'm sure I could fall asleep to it. Across the street is a bus station. The bus is what I'm waiting for to take me home. No one else is waiting at the station, but the booth provides better coverage from the rain since it has a door and I'm not appropriately dressed for this sort of weather, in my tank top and khaki shorts. It had been so warm this morning... damn weatherman.

I sit up, the bench I’d fallen from now acting as a backrest. The ground is damp from rainwater leaking in under the booth's door, but I don't mind. I look around outside hoping to see other signs of life that I could disturb with my fanciful fog breathing. To my dismay, the only thing I see is a pair of taillights on the highway, fading into the rain soaked distance. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to drift off, but through my half-closed eyes I notice something. There is someone at the bus station!

I stand and walk as close as the booth will allow, trying to get a better look at the man. The streetlamp over the station produces only a dim orange glow and at the moment the bulb is flickering. That, combined with the downpour, makes it difficult to see him clearly. The rain is too loud, so I can't get his attention by tapping on the glass. Instead, I do the only thing my alcohol fueled, childlike brain can think of: I decide to draw a penis for him to see. I breathe on the window, the fog fully engulfing the man, and begin work on my phallic masterpiece. A content smile settles on my face. But as the fog fades, I notice something is wrong.

The man has turned and is now looking directly at me. At first I'm startled and slightly unnerved, but the alcohol kicks in and I'm simply happy to have an attentive audience. I breathe on the location of my dick drawing again, revealing it in all its erect glory, for the world to bask in. ‘It really is quite good,’ I think to myself, a warm sense of pride coursing through me. Of course, that could also be the alcohol. Once again, the fog dissipates and this time the alcohol does little to soothe my unease.

The man has stood and is ten feet closer than he was before, standing in the middle of the street. Something about him is off, but I can't tell what with the rain obscuring my vision. To my left, thunder booms, sending vibrations through the air surrounding me. A quick glance at the sky reveals lightning streaking through it, flashing towards the ground at an unimaginable rate. The image is seared into my retina, a crooked scar of black running across my vision as I look away. I blink rapidly, trying to regain my sight. Before long, it returns unblemished and I look back toward the man.

He's gone. A shiver scuttles up my back and through my arms, my muscles tightening as it travels. I feel myself sobering up. My eyes scan in a circle searching for the man before I sit back down. It wasn't a particularly impressive vanishing act by any means. The man would have had plenty of time to walk away while I was blinded by the lightning. He'd probably seen how I was acting and thought I was tweaking, pumped full of drugs. That was the most likely case, but I have a bad feeling. My alcohol-filled stomach, which used to be my warm, pleasant friend, begins to rebel against me. I can feel bile starting to creep upwards, its acidity searing my throat. The nausea kicks in and I lean back, closing my eyes, trying to hold back what could potentially turn into a very unsavory situation.

Yeah, that's not happening.

I double over at the waist, eyes still shut, and unload the contents of my stomach onto the concrete, little bits and pieces splattering onto my shoes. The stink is unbearable and only serves to fuel my gag reflex. Another volley of vomit follows. Finally my stomach relaxes and I open my eyes.

And stop.

Shoes.

Across the booth from me. Shoes which weren't there before. Dress shoes that have been buffed and polished to perfection. I follow the shoes up to a sleek pair of stylish black slacks. Continuing the trend, my eyes take in a professionally ironed dress shirt and vest, an article of clothing so pristine it would scoff at the idea of a wrinkle marring it. Finally, up to the face...

I bolt for the door, sensing movement from the position of the man. The door bursts open as I impact it and I quickly turn, kicking it back into a closed position. I sprint a few more meters towards the road, looking back over my shoulder to see the creature still stuck in the booth. Its face is pressed against the glass door, distorting its features even further, with its hands pressed flat on either side. As I watch, it pulls back, and a grin spreads onto its face. I feel my foot plunge into a pothole, my ankle turns and I am sent sprawling on to the ground.

Violent vibrations shake the ground beneath me. I look to my left and am met with a bus tire headed for my head. I open my mouth to scream, awaiting the crushing rubber...

I jerk awake. I'm lying on the bench in the booth. I quickly sit up and survey my surroundings, my heart hammering in my chest. No vomit on the ground and no terrifying boogeyman. I glance at the bus station. There’s even a crowd of close to ten people milling about, probably having come out of the same bar as me. Their proximity comforts me, and my heart slows to a manageable rate. I do have a splitting headache, but that's a relief compared to the nightmare I just experienced.

As I watch, the bus I've been waiting to take rolls up. I stand up and head towards the door of the booth, an involuntary sigh escaping my lips. As I step up to the door I pause, remembering the creature’s position from my nightmare. After a second, I lean forward and breathe onto the glass.