I forgot the ball was tonight. 

The Seventy-Fifth Annual Charity Ball is held across the street from the courthouse. Ripe with rich ladies and dauntless men. Where I was supposed to meet my date tonight. 

Instead, I watch the sky. Under the moon with my patio so close to me. Small trinket lights that line my square-footage add a pleasant view up ninety degrees towards the sky. 

The window inside of my apartment glows with a rich orange tint, unfocused. It displays this glowing ball that shoots through my living room and into the Florida panes. Never reaching the final destination of shaded dirt piles behind my complex. 

I've heard that they would bury bodies underneath the dirt piles after the war. I’ve heard that they would put many into one grave. That the stench would aerate for miles and the townsfolk of yesterday couldn't stand the smell of it. 

‘They’ are unknown to me. I’ve lived my life ignorantly these past twenty years. Granted, I am still young, I know very little of what happened so long ago. If I were to guess, ‘They’ are some militia responsible for the digging of these unknown tombs. 

My date jabbed me in the stomach, on our second date, mind you. The one I was supposed to court tonight. I’d been in the hospital up until yesterday with a sore wound and some bubbling infection growing up the lining of my gut. 

She’d ordered the soup and salad. And then asked for my money. 

I started my car with a shaking wrist and a bundle of napkins wrapped around my lap. Not doing much to pressurize the bleed. The ride was rough. I saw the light a few times, causing me to drift the car to the right of the median. Looking down was hard. I remember seeing the dark red globs of organ and stained tissue along my seatbelt. 

When I’d finally arrived at the hospital, I told the emergency room clerk that I’d fallen onto an umbrella. “It’s been a miserable day, m’lady.”

I saw the pictures the doctor had taken with the giant radiation machine. It looked twisted. In a literal and figurative sense. That a woman could stick a blade so awkwardly into my stomach lining was truly a feat yet seen before, by me. 

I couldn’t taste the wine I’d poured before I left. My hands numb to the warm sink water. Threw my keys onto the counter and sunk into my couch. Life today hasn’t gone according to how I thought it would this morning. I stared at the television. 

Then I stared at myself in the mirror. 

The blood loss had affected my whole body. My skin was ghastly white. My eyes, dark gray. The lipstick I had put on in the morning was cracked and peeling. My nice shirt from J.C. Penney's was stained in thick red blood. Underneath the holes in the shirt fabric was the outline of white plaster-cast, bandage, and tourniquet.

I threw a few aspirin down and re-entered my apartment common. The sky yesterday, believe it or not, was just as magnificent as it is tonight. The sun had seemed to have set later, leaving the fading blue and yellow trails across the sky. With small and wonder-like nimbuses shooting from the sun itself. 

My couch was stained in my blood and the television network ended early for labor-day weekend. Some broadcasts on the radios still ran, so I tuned in for my night's remainder. I looked around my place. Admiring the layout I had done years back. Watching myself in the mirrored closet doors. 

Thinking briefly about what it would look like if she had been here too. 

Friday, the day of the ball. 

I think I lifted my bandage from my stomach in my sleep. The couch was covered in my blood this morning, so much so, that it looked like she’d come through in the evening. 

I had some dream last night. We picked out things to wear for tonight. 

She arrived in my dream. Around noon and apologized for the whole stabbing incident. We had the wine, and I could taste it this time.

She showed me the dress she would be wearing. It was beautiful. Pearl accessories and matching shoes. 

She gazed at my wound as I nodded in appeasement. 

“What are you wearing tonight, my darling?”

She asks me. 

I had told her that she had ruined my only pair of slacks and my only good-looking dress shirt. But I didn’t want to miss it, so I’d be wearing it.

She left the common and started rummaging around in my cabinets. I’d figured she’d gone to fetch a sewing kit.

She returned with a knife in her’s.