Cold As Her

In the early hours of the morning, around ten o'clock, a red Toyota Tundra pickup emerged from the entrance of Jimmy's apartment complex.

Just across the street from the five-story building, Ben, a homeless man who had recently bummed cigarettes from Drew a few days ago and enjoyed a milkshake from Jimmy the previous night, sat on a weathered bench.

Amidst the dim light of dawn, Ben sported a worn white vest and faded blue jeans that had lost their original hue and now seemed closer to gray.

As the vehicle rolled into view, Ben pondered aloud, "Another new tenant, huh? I could've sworn Jimmy said those apartments were all occupied."

In a moment of self-reflection, he added, "Did you honestly think he'd let you through those doors with those raggedy pants, Ben?"

A dog, positioned a few yards away from Ben and near the apartment building's entrance, observed the scene.

Once the truck disappeared from view, Ben couldn't help but shout at it, "You're a lucky one, you know.

(Hesitates)

It's a strange world, buddy, where a dog like you can be more esteemed and cherished than a fellow human. Look at you," he angrily kicked at the air.

In response to his voice, the dog trotted inside, leaving Ben to endure the chilly morning on his own.

The weather was far from ideal, with dense fog obscuring the surroundings, and the sun had yet to make an appearance, withholding its warmth, even though it was nearing noon.

Under the crimson glow of a traffic light, the red truck patiently awaited its turn in line, poised for the signal to shift from red to green.

Within the truck's cabin, a familiar figure sat, sipping on a cold beer and grooving to the tunes of country music.

Despite a somewhat handsome countenance, he bore dark circles beneath his eyes and a notably troublesome nose that he couldn't resist touching from time to time.

His free hand, when not clutching the steering wheel, alternated between gripping a beer can and fussing with his nose. His gaze oscillated between the road ahead and the traffic lights, longing for the green signal to continue his journey.

When the green light finally granted him passage, he merged onto the highway leading away from the city.

After an hour on the road, he veered left onto a winding mountainous tarmac route. Just then, he spotted a traffic police officer and a parked truck on the side of the road.

He had been on this route before, about a year ago, and there hadn't been any traffic police.

He inwardly cursed his luck, decelerating and pulling over.

Another police officer, a woman in her twenties, emerged from the police vehicle and crossed the road toward him.

"Good afternoon, sir," she greeted politely, holding a notebook.

Young, attractive, slender, and courteous, Matt silently observed. Probably a rookie, he surmised.

Forcing a smile, he replied, "Hello, officer," adopting a cooperative tone.

Her face brightened at his respectful response. Matt couldn't help but dart his eyes momentarily over her figure and then back to her face so swiftly that she noticed.

"What's wrong, sir?" she inquired.

"I haven't seen such an attractive police officer anywhere else, forgive me," he flirted.

"Where are you headed?" she asked, her expression remaining composed and disregarding the flattery.

"To the mines," he replied, turning off his engine. "My brother works there."

"I see," she said, taking a step back. "And what's in the truck, sir, if you don't mind me asking?"

He chuckled. "It's empty," he confidently stated, referring to the large covered truck bed.

"I'm hoping to return with something, though," he added, hoping she'd come closer.

"What", she asked, approaching the driver's window.

"Grapes," he answered, self-assured.

She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "You haven't been around here lately, at least not that I recall. The land isn't yielding grapes anymore."

Confident as ever, he replied, "The corporate lands might not be, but small farmers like my brother still have to."

"A family man, I see," she began to move away. "And how many beers have you had already? Isn't it too early for that?", she pressed.

"It's a long ride, ma'am, two ".

He smelt of beer, but the way he talked he was far from being drunk. Again, the young officer was taking it easy on him because that was her first day on the job, and so far the most respectful driver she had stopped.

"You can go", she concluded walking away.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a good day," he expressed his gratitude.

At precisely two in the afternoon, Matt turned off the tarmac road onto a rough dirt path that led toward the mines.

Disregarding the main mine access road, he instead followed a narrow footpath for about ten minutes until he arrived at an abandoned mine.

This was the location he had envisioned, an ideal resting place for Charlotte, a place of chilling solitude

Cold as her.

In the heart of the abandoned mine, nestled deep within the earth's belly, the muscular Matt brought his Toyota Tundra pickup to a halt.

The lower part of the mine seemed untouched by time, an eerie place with an ominous atmosphere.

Before him lay a gaping hole, a reservoir of still water that had grown more treacherous with each passing rainy season.

From above, pieces of the mine's upper layers occasionally tumbled, threatening to seal off this forsaken abyss.

With a purposeful yet cautious demeanor, Matt retrieved a heavy-duty dustbin from the bed of his pickup. Wrapped tightly within its confines lay Charlotte's body.

Unlike Jimmy, Matt couldn't find any words to confess to Charlotte's lifeless body as he silently drove, consuming more beers than he had admitted to the traffic officer.

He didn't send her away with words either.

Taking it out, he tossed the dustbin aside and walked ahead.

Finding his footing upon a sturdy rock ledge, Matt steadied himself, acutely aware of the precipice beneath.

His well-built frame tensed as he summoned the strength to hurl the wrapped Charlotte into the abyss below.

The air filled with a palpable tension as she descended into the depths, a haunting silence broken only by the echoing splash as she collided with the water.

Having executed his task, Matt retrieved the dustbin, now empty, and placed it back into his vehicle.

He climbed atop the car's front hood, the cold metal beneath him, and lit a cigarette.

As he exhaled thick smoke from his nose and mouth, it stung his red, teary eyes. He sniffled before taking another drag from the burning cigarette, causing it to glow brightly.

They had successfully eliminated Charlotte and disposed of her body flawlessly, so Matt should have been content.

However, the dark circles beneath his eyes, his bloodshot gaze, and his tense expression told a different story.

"Fucking Charli," he muttered at last, flicking half of his cigarette.