I thought that would have frustrated me. But it brought me relief. If nobody else can see him, then he’sclearlynot real, and I truly am just having delusions of grandeur. There’s relief knowing he will probably go away with some sleep, or caffeine, or anti-psychotics, or something else.
I might as well entertain myself with this hallucination.
“You said it was a curse,” he murmured.
Not this again.
“What if I tell you I have a solution?”
My ears prick up. Words fall out of my mouth. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back against the rim of the bin. “I’ve been around a long time, Handsome. I’ve seen a lot of weird shit. Get all sorts of items dumped through my head daily. But yours didn’t even make the top ten in the ‘Big Bad Book of Curses To Mess With Humans’ Lives’.” He licked his thumb and pretended to turn a page in a book.
Handsome. He called me handsome.Guys have called me attractive in the past, or good-looking, but never handsome. Handsome is a word I reserve for someone I really like. He usedmyword. My heart wants to swell.
Instead, my head swirls with questions, of which I didn’t want to know the answers. Questions about all the shit he has seen.
He grins again. He needs to stop grinning…
“It is triggered by trash. But a triggered curse is one that can be broken, by what sets it off.”
This didn’t make sense…
I had been caught by coworkers in the past when the curse activated and I had jerked into an empty takeaway coffee cup. And again, when I fucked a turkey sandwich. The urge never goes away. If anything, I just find something new. I wanted to correct him, but he had to be an expert on this. I mean, look athim!
I can’t wipe the look of befuddlement off my face.
“You obviously wouldn’t know that though. I have been watching you for a while. You let no one help you.” He pushes himself up and appears to be standing within the bin. “In fact,I wager you have never truly let anyone help you do anything before.”
I stare at him, and my voice catches in my throat. I want to scream at him. Squirt every drop of cleaning liquid at him. Tie up the bag and chuck it outside. But I knew it wouldn’t work. If he could appear here, it would be more than likely the bins outside are connected too.
“Didn’t think so, handsome.” He smirks. That damn word again. “Lucky for you, I am in a helpful mood.”
What did that even mean?
He smiles even wider at me, looking sweaty and nervous.Nervous about what?“If we are to do this, there is something I should tell you first–”
The janitor's office door flies open behind me, and I turn around, fear in my eyes.
“Hey, Oscar? You in? There’s been a spill–”
It’s Claudia. She stops, eyes wide, sees me, then looks to the bin behind me, and I look back and hope he isn’t there.
And he isn’t.Thank fuck!The Bin-man is gone.But I have to be hallucinating. I blink a few times. He still isn’t there.
All she can see is me, standing alone in a cramped janitor's office, my glasses slipping down my nose. I push them back up and pretend like nothing is happening.
“…You, OK?” she asks, genuine care in her tone. “Who were you talking to?”
If this had been a prank she is pulling, she is doing a damn good job at acting. I decide to play along. “Yeah!” my voice squeaks. “Just, uh,” I look around and quickly grab a few bottles of bleach. “Just reorganising the um, cleaning supplies. Sometimes it helps me to say them out loud.”
She gives me a look that makes it clear she’s not convinced. And at this point, I realise she isn’t pulling a prank and has nothing to do with Bin-man.
“OK, well once you are done doing whatever it is you were doing, can you come clean up the spill in the lift foyer?”
She leaves, shutting the door behind her. I can catch my breath. I press my forehead against the wall and let go of the bleach bottles.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this happening to me?
