Broken Windows

I opened my brief case and began to shove papers inside haphazardly. Picking them up off the bed, all mixed up and disorganized, I shoved them into a side pocket or wherever fit. The papers weren’t mine. I needed to hide them quickly so that they would not be found.

Picking up my brief case and straightening my tie, I began to walk towards the door. My appearance in the mirror looked odd to my sight but I didn’t feel like morphing it any. Delilah had already seen my appearance as it was, she would think me strange and immortal if I came out looking different. And it was Scott who needed to check out, not anyone else.

I walked out to the desk with my room key in hand. The lobby of the hotel was filled with chairs. I approached the desk where Delilah stood. “Well hello there again, Delilah, did I tell you how nice you look today?” Her bright red blouse brought of the darkness of her skin tone.

“Why thank you. Are you checking out today, Mr. Zimmerman?” The black woman seemed as though she were trying to hide her impatience behind a smile. I could easily tell she didn’t like her job.

“Yes ma’am, I am.” I handed Delilah my key. She typed a few things into the computer and the name Scott Zimmerman was highlighted on the screen. I paid the woman the money that Scott owed. I’d taken his wallet off the dresser anyways so it wasn’t like I was using the money out of my own pocket to pay someone else’s expenses.

“Okay, thank you, sir, have a nice day.” Delilah gave me a smile before I walked out of the hotel.

I’d never met that woman before, nor had I ever been in that hotel. Hell, I’d never been in this body before either. Scott Zimmerman didn’t suit me well. But then again, he and I had some unfinished business to attend to.

I walked down an alley. There was no one there save for me and a dumpster. But it’s not like the dumpster would tell my secrets. Standing there, facing the dumpster, I closed my eyes for but a mere moment. When I opened them, I was in a completely different setting.

I was in my own house, in my own room. I heard my kids playing in the hall. But my appearance still hadn’t changed. I was still a Caucasian with dark brown hair, standing nearly six feet tall. My kids wouldn’t recognize me as Scott Zimmerman.

I put my brief case behind my dresser where my wife wouldn’t find it. Before blinking out to my mission, I waved my hand in front of my face. My shoulders became broader, my height was shortened about two inches, my skin became a chocolate color, and my hair turned to black. Rather than a business suit, I was wearing a sort of ninja attire, a suit of dark colors. A tattoo appeared on my shoulder, an odd sort of mark as though I was touched by the hand of death. This was me, Quinten Lucy.

I closed my eyes again and when I opened them, I found myself in a room, bare save for a computer, a desk, and an unsuspecting man. He was sitting in the chair in his office, facing the computer, with his back to me. He was humming softly to himself as he worked. Sneaking up behind him, I pulled a knife from the pocket of my suit. Holding the knife to his neck, I spoke softly into his ear. “Hello, Scott.”

Scott grew very nervous, very quickly. “What do you want?” His voice was weak and shaky.

“To take you out.” Scott trembled even more. “But first..” Still holding my grip on the man, I blinked. When we had again reappeared, we were in the hotel room that I, as Scott, had checked out of but less than an hour before. “Now, Scott. I want you to find me those documents you wrote. The ones where you explained the facts about the supernatural. About me.”

I let go of the man and he walked over to the dresser and peeked into the second drawer. Nervous, Scott spoke, “T—they’re—they’re not here..”

“Good. You see that they are gone. Do you know why they are not present?” Scott shook his head. I waved my hand over my face again. The next thing Scott Zimmerman saw was the person he saw in the mirror every morning, he saw himself staring back at him.

I began to walk towards the frightened man and he began to back away, towards the closed window. “Quinten, what are you doing?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I thought I’d show him. I lodged my dagger into the man’s heart and I covered his mouth so he couldn’t scream. And when Scott Zimmerman lay dead on the floor, I put his own hand around the knife in his chest.

Walking out onto the balcony, still in the dead man’s body, I took the chair next to the door and smashed the window. Shards of glass began to fall a few feet from where Scott lay. Before I departed, I locked the door got out to the balcony.

Waving my hand in front of my face yet again, I morphed. Rather than changing back into myself, I morphed into a little blue jay. I was in the mood for sight-seeing. I flew off the balcony, flapping my wings and soaring above the crowds of people. I noticed a telephone booth relatively close to the hotel.

Flying into an empty lot nearby, I touched my little feet upon the concrete. I morphed again. But this time, I was a person. A woman this time. My white skin donned a rose colored summer dress. I began to walk towards the phone booth, my heels clicking against the hard ground. As I punched in the numbers, my red hair fell into my face.

I spoke into the phone. My voice was slightly rough due to my Irish accent. “Yeah, I just heard some glass break in a hotel. I think it may have been a window.”

Broken windows are a dead give-away.