Five Minute Fiction is an ongoing experiment. The goal: To write as much as I can in five minutes. Don’t think. Let the fingers do the work. Once done walk away then come back later to clean it up.
Mark looked up from the table when he heard Professor Smith walk into the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Professor said as he slopped his way to the podium, “This is the day you’ve all been waiting for. Now, if you would be so kind,” he said, twirling a finger in the air.
Mark turned, and saw her.
He recognized her immediately; those delicate cheekbones, that beautiful button nose, and skin so white and soft that in his dreams she cast an ethereal glow as she slowly walked across the quad on a moonless night. But whenever he saw her on campus, more often than not with her startling blue eyes buried in a book, Mark couldn’t bring himself to approach her. He was always good with numbers, esoteric literature, and complicated laboratory experiments. In all ways a genius, and best described by his pre-med professor as “one of those rare cases of true human potential”. Mark had the gift. That much was certain. But his one weakness was speaking with the opposite sex.
But when Mark saw her now, on the opposite side of the room, with Jerry. Jerry, that bastard! Well, this was enough to push him over the edge, man up, and finally make himself known to her.
With hands unconsciously clenched into tight little fists he slunk his way through the maze of steel tables and firmly planted himself in front of his nemesis. “Jerry,” he said, trying to control the jumble of emotions boiling away in his guts, “You, uh…you wouldn’t mind swapping with me, would you?”
Jerry peeled himself away from a book that was propped open on the table, looked Mark in the eyes, and saw something strange and unsettling there. A certain amount of strain and mad confusion. And, were his eyes welling up? “Um, no,” he replied, sensing that something odd was going on, and right now he didn’t have time to deal with Mark and his world-famous moods. “Doesn’t matter to me, man. Just let me grab my things.” Jerry rolled up his kit, gathered up his books, and made his way to a table on the far side of the room.
And there Mark was, looking into the most beautiful, peaceful face on the planet. “Hi,” he said, brushing the back of his hand against the subtle curve of her cheek, “My name is Mark.”
“All right, boys and girls,” the Professor bellowed from the front of the class, “I think we’re ready to begin.”
Mark unrolled his kit.
“I want you to make a ‘Y’ incision,” Professor Smith said, “Extending down from the sternum to the pubic bone. Remember, this is a deep cut.”
Selecting a scalpel, Mark looked down at the still body and slowly ran his gloved fingers through it’s soft blond hair. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time now. I think I love you,” he whispered, diving the blade deep into her flawless, milky skin.