What can be done with just one right decision… - Alexandra K. Velika

Alexandra K. Velika



What can be done with just one right decision…

It’s finally Friday! After a very long time I will finally head into the vortex of the night Prague. Not that I want to, I would very much prefer to stay at home with a book in my hand, my friends, however, have been trying to make me go out for some time now and if I finally uncheck this wannabe social affair, I will have them out of my hair for a while.

I am an ordinary college student with a part-time job in a book store. Single. Who would like to date a girl who’s constantly buried in books? Well, maybe there’s someone out there but you know how it goes, I’m looking for Mr. Perfect and they, unfortunately, live in books only. Don’t get me wrong, I wish for love, but a matter of fact is that a book her will not break your heart. I will make an exception today. I will go out, have fun and maybe I’ll share a moment with someone. It’s about time…

“Tereza! Go to him! Look at the way he looks at you!” my friend’s teasing me in a bar full of drunk heads.

“Are you out of your mind? What am I gonna say?” I usually don’t talk to men. I don’t know what to do. They did not give us any manual at school.

Another friend is pushing me closer to him and I almost choke during a shy greeting. He’s really handsome. He’s out of my league. I should really do something already. Yes, starting tomorrow I will go on a diet and I will start exercising.  He invited me for a drink. That is so sweet of him.

It’s almost as if the time stopped with him. He’s so charming. He knows exactly what to say. The best thing about him is he actually loves literature and is also very lonesome. We’re so alike. How is it possible that such a handsome guy is single? I don’t get it. I agree that there’s a lot of alcohol in my blood. My friends are gone. They did that on purpose. I hope they don’t think I’ll take him home. It’s true that I didn’t get some in a really long time but I am not like that. I need to get to know him first and then maybe someday. I would never do it on the first date. I barely know him. Oh, his kisses are divine. He’s gentle and playfull. Wow. He could get it. Good news is I am not nervous anymore. Bad news is I’m almost drunk. He’s inviting me over. I hesitate. Then, however, something strikes me. He doesn’t know who wrote Hamlet. Everybody knows that. Even someone who doesn’t know anything about literature. At the last moment I tell him I’m too drunk to go with him. I’m writing down his phone number and promise to call back. However, in all honesty, I am not sure. One sentence was good enough to take him from potential suitor into dummy category. I wouldn’t mind if didn’t know about alternative authors of Shakespeare’s work but the name itself is a publicly known affair. I go home alone. I fall asleep and forget the meeting. He says he is well versed in the literary works. Sure. He only wanted to get laid.

On Saturday morning I’m just staring in the mirror. I have cold sore. Yuck. I have to tell girls off. Well, whatever. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I will not go out for a long time after this. God bless guys from books. I cannot get cold sore from them. They’re a safe bed.

On Sunday morning I’m in total shock. What’s that on the half of my face? The cold sore is spreading! My goodness. I’m panicking on my way to the emergency room. If I got something from him… I want to cry. I go out once in a blue moon and this is what I get. I’m so mad at myself. I explain to the doctor that I was kissing a strange guy and woke up like this. Luckily, she’s not judgy and makes some tests from my blood and takes some swabs from that thing on my face.

She gave me some cream and I’m supposed to call back on Monday regarding the test results. She can’t tell me what it is now. I’m angry. I cannot go out like this. They will ask what it is, and I will have to tell them I was kissing a stranger. Disaster. Public humiliation for a moment of rashness.

On Monday morning I get a phone call. Hidden number. What the..? CSI! That’s what I call an alarm. They need to talk to me. They’re here within an hour explaining what’s going on. I get goosebumps. They insist. “You need to call him and meet up! You have no choice.”

In the evening I’m meeting “dunno-Hamlet” in front of his apartment. The police immediately take him down and put him in handcuffs. I’m shaking. And yes, they were right. They found three female bodies in his apartment. Why the cold sore? Bacteria from the corpses. It’s obvious what he did with the bodies. He did not show any sign from the bacteria after he was pleasuring himself with the bodies but when he kissed me, the ones that didn’t leave him were passed onto me. His karma. My luck. 

My decision saved my life that night. Thank you, Shakespeare!


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