Flash Fiction: Obsession ~ Political Intimacies

Source: Pexels. Ibolya Toldi, Photographer

by LJ Frank

We met at my apartment and sat on the patio looking out over the city.

Good morning.  Coffee?

Yeah. Thanks for the invitation.   

My pleasure. Would you like to recount what happened?  

It’s all so ambiguous.

I understand. When did this event occur?

I’m beginning to wonder that myself. 

What do you mean?

How does one determine reality from a dream when they both occur while seemingly awake? It could have been years, decades or yesterday. Like the first fireworks one experiences as child and wanting to see more, or as a soldier in war and afterwards never wanting to experience the drama associated with those flashes of light, cracking sounds, and explosions again, or yet being seduced by the sparks and heat of an intense affair where you are so profoundly and sensually aware of the other person lying next to you. 


And some events are worth reliving as a caring memory…while…others, are best left behind in the past even if just twenty-four hours ago. So much is influenced by the moment we find ourselves living in now. You see, today or yesterday or even my life up to this moment is never the whole truth. 

I agree. Context. And this very moment can feel surreal. What makes this stand out among the others?

It was an intimacy that has already become an obsession. And I feel like that it was my most honest experience.


I was with a charismatic and deeply provocative individual. Yet through all the intense passion I instinctively knew something was missing.

Why do you say that?

The next morning I found red marks on my inner thighs, my toes felt like they’d been sucked all night and I found what looked like two bite marks on my neck. That’s not all…we were both wearing masks the entire time. 


It was an expensive political gathering at a private mansion, invitation only. People arrived in expensive cars, clothes and jewelry. During the course of the evening couples wandered off to different locations or rooms in the building. Sound familiar? The masks we wore were either Venetian or carnival style, most were only covering the upper part of the nose and had openings for the eyes.

I see. Did the person reveal themself to you?


Anything distinguishable about the person?

Their voice.

What about it?

Kind of like yours. Though their body seems different than yours from what I’ve observed…of yours. .

You’re serious?

Yeah. Someone was impersonating you, in particular, your voice?

Hm. Why would a political type of individual want to impersonate an actor?