I am watching snow fall and listening to wind howel in the evening time. Cleo lies asleep in the bedroom as I stand naked in front of a window, eating an apple given to me earlier that day. Cleo picked the apple at the market from a pile. A large Gala apple in my hand. Biting into it, I realize that this gift isn’t a gift at all. It is just one of her many temptations; offering fruit that will give me knowledge. Perhaps a peek into the souls of humankind. Then again, sometimes an apple is just an apple. A banana is just a banana. A cigar just a cigar.

Eat it, I tell myself. Eat the whole thing down to the core, I say. What the hell. Eat all of it. Devour the fruit seeds and all leaving nothing behind; not even a trace. Maybe just the stem, which I use as a toothpick. There is no waste.

That’s what she has done with me. Cleo has devoured all of me, body and soul. Perhaps it is time to give up the fight. Admit failure. Comply with her demands. She gives me comfort, but at a price.

So many times, I’ve wanted to give up in this life. The constant dreaming of death. To sleep until awakened on the other side. Perhaps a bar room in heaven. Maybe a bed in a whore house. Or, could it be the fires of hell? A place where I would spend my days paying for sins committed against my fellow man. There is always a price to pay.

I remember as a student, I wanted to end it all. Be done with it. Finalize the deal. And so I tried with a bottle of pills right there at my locker in my school. That poor girl next to me who asked how I was doing? What fear I struck in her. Telling her I was fine and then swallowing the whole bottle of muscle relaxers, slamming the locker door, and walking away. A horrible thing to do to a person. To think only of yourself. Not caring how my actions affected her. I was on my way to the burning pits to suffer for eternity. This was clear to me as I watched the ambulance drive me to the hospital from up above only to wake up the next day in a bed with my mother scolding me for this action. There was no sympathy, only anger and rage towards me. And perhaps she was right to be angry while my father said not a word. It was at this time I realized that my suicide attempt was futile. Just a silly stunt, perhaps. Not sure. There would be more to come.

And so I stand naked eating an apple in paradise as snow falls. Cleo is calling my name. Telling me to come join her. How can I resist? A woman’s touch? A taste of death? Chinese laundry; same thing.