A Heart as Cold a Ice

By Adam Smith - Posted 2/14/26

I’ve never really been a person to trust in anything that wasn’t right in front of me. Believing this precludes me from accepting foolish things like ghosts, or astrology, or religion, or love at first sight. But I occasionally surprise myself.

I met a woman about a week ago. I kept my distance because she was working — I didn’t want to be "that guy," but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Her beauty captivated me. I visited the same spot for the next few days and sure enough... she was still there.

She occupied every thought I had. I needed to fix this, do something about it, but what? My older brother, Hector, would know what to do in this situation. He always knew the right way to talk to women. I decided to give him a call.

"Hey, James," he answered. "What’s up, bro?"

"Hey, man. How’s the family?" I asked.

"They’re good. Maggie is finally walking. The doctors have worked wonders on her."

My niece, who was born with half a heart, probably won’t live to see high school. But my brother insisted on giving her the best life she could have for right now.

"So, I met a woman today," I said, meekly.

"Yeah? What’s her name?"

"I don’t know. I saw her at the protest. I’ve just been referring to her as Aphrodite in my mind, you know."

"But you didn’t talk to her?" He was audibly confused.

"Yeah, she’s a cop." My body temperature started to rise.

"Duuude," I could feel his disappointment.

"Not a local pig. CBP or ICE, most likely."

"Yeah, but that’s worse. You get that, right?" he said.

"Yeah, I get that. I know that. My brain is telling me why this is the worst idea in the world, but my heart won’t listen," I rambled. "She wasn’t wearing a mask like all the other tools. She just wore sunglasses, which I now realize is what struck me about her. Her beautiful smile. I couldn’t stop looking at her and wondering if maybe I couldn’t change her ways."

"Okay, bro. I hear you. I don’t like it, but I know you called for advice. Here’s what you gotta do. Remember Portland? Remember those crazy motherfuckers in the animal costumes?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied.

"Go get one of them and then write a song and perform it for her." He paused for dramatic effect after declaring his instructions. I could feel him locking eyes with me, even though we were on the phone. His intention was palpable.

"You have two days," he added.

The next day, after lunch, I went to a costume store. I asked if any inflatable costumes were available to rent. But they informed me that an influx of customers from the suburbs had cleared the stock. A lot of little girls’ and boys’ birthday parties, I guess.

I asked what was left and all they had in stock were shitty, cloth costumes. To make matters worse, they only had a gorilla costume and a dog costume. I felt the gorilla might create a hostile work environment for her, so I rented the dog one.

The second stop also sucked. I went to Walmart to find any fucking musical instrument. Literally anything I could serenade my future wife with. All that I could find was a chintzy keyboard. Not even a Casio. Some horrible off brand.

So, I was going to look like a goon and sound like a child, but I was dedicated to this idea and I wasn’t stopping until I succeeded. Yeah, this was a horrible plan.

Thankfully, the song didn’t take me too long to write. I sat down that night and mostly stole lyrics from different ‘60s R&B songs. I altered them just enough to be original and/or funny. I wanted to win her heart, but I was also having fun.

On the morning in question, I got up early and took a nice, long shower. I luxuriated in the warmth of the water and used the time to relax as much as possible. I was actually a little scared that I might be killed today, but I tried to excise that thought from my head.

I arrived where I knew she would be. She wasn’t there at first, but then I saw her walk around the building wearing her signature sunglasses. My heart skipped a beat as my angel walked to her position by the side door. For a brief moment, I swear that she looked right at me. I knew, in that moment, that I had to start immediately.

I sauntered out in front of the line of protestors and placed the speaker that I borrowed from my roommate on the ground. I connected it to the keyboard and pressed the button labeled "Rhumba" on the prearranged beats section of the cheap instrument. Slow, smooth romantic music began to emanate from the speaker.

I got one minute into my Marvelettes parody, Please Mr. ICE-man, when she walked directly across the lawn and struck me in the knee with a baton that I wasn’t even aware she was carrying. Two agents picked me up and carried me like a bag of rocks. I couldn’t really see where they took me—any time I tried to look around, someone smacked the back of my neck with an open palm. I knew it was her.

Into an open door. Down a hallway. Into another room, but when they closed the door, it was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything and the sounds of shuffling feet echoed deeply into my head. I felt my arms being tied behind me and then I was sitting in a chair. My brain felt like it was hallucinating—like I’d been sitting in the dark for hours.

The lights blasted on and standing in front of me, looking at least a foot taller than I’d ever seen her before, was Aphrodite. She walked with a decisiveness. In two strides, she was on me. Kissing me with authority. And just as quickly as it started, she pulled away and struck me across the face.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"What the fuck?!" was all I could spit out.

"Who are you and who do you work for?" she repeated.

"I’m j-just a guy," I stammered. "I just wanted to sing a song to you. You’re beautiful."

This entire scenario was stupid. How did I find myself there?

"Who is Hector?"

I froze, perplexed.

"How do you know Hector?" she continued. "Or should I ask, how do you know the person who claims to be Hector?"

I didn’t understand what the fuck she was asking. "Hector is my brother. I grew up with him. That man taught me how to ride a bike."

She smirked at me with those gorgeous lips. Still wearing her shades, I couldn’t get a read on her. "Tell me who you are, asshole. That contact isn’t your brother."

"Yes, he is—" I started.

She dropped into a stance like Mr. Miyagi and punched me right in the sternum. The chair tipped back and my head slammed on the floor. The air around me became heavier and I couldn’t focus my eyes on anything.

Just as suddenly, I felt myself being wrenched up and the chair reset, slightly askew. I tried to catch my breath as Aphrodite rounded to my front and lifted my chin, slowly, with the back of her hand. She quickly struck me again across the jaw. Then carefully kissed the spot.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screamed.

"Name your suppliers," she commanded of me. "Where does your organization get its munitions from?" She grabbed me by the fake collar of the dog costume, kissed me again, and threw me backwards.

This time I pulled my head forward and the chair shattered against the wall behind me. My arms were still tied, but I was able to lift myself to my knees. At that point, she charged me and pinned me against the wall.

Then she drove her knee into my crotch with the force and precision of a soccer player. I crumpled to the ground. The dull but intense ache between my legs was simultaneously arousing and agonizing. Why was I like this?

"Where do you hide the bodies?" she demanded. "Where can we find the body of Hector Ruez? Where did you bury him?"

"I haven’t buried anybody! I’m just a graphic designer. I don’t kill people and I don’t run money or drugs or guns or anything! Who the fuck do you think I am?"

Without answering, she flipped me over and deftly swung a leg across me. She straddled me, putting her perfectly round ass right on the huge erection that I didn’t realize I had.

"You need to talk to me right now, James." She grabbed my chin and pulled my eyes to hers. She took off her shades with her free hand and began to slowly grind against me. Her eyes were locked on mine. She stared into my soul as she glided herself over my cock.

"I’m nobody," I finally answered. "I’m just a guy who went to college because everyone told him to. And then he got a boring job and worked too many hours and lost most of his friends. Then he got enough money saved to where he didn’t feel like he was struggling. So, he decided to get back into the dating scene, but then a global pandemic happened and he lost any will to find companionship. His anxiety was building and without anything to fall back on, he threw himself into protesting. I used to love that shit in college. Sticking it to the man. At least we thought we were. Turns out: none of that mattered. We’re still stuck where we are. Everyone hates one another and nothing matters."

She paused her gyrations and frowned at me. She was finally speechless.

"And that’s not the worst part. I’m feeling myself slip away. I’m living my life one week at a time and I have nothing to show for it. No family or nothing. I’m just working, eating, scrolling on my phone, sleeping, and then doing the whole thing over again. Seeing you last week was the most alive I’ve felt in years. Seeing your beauty and grace brought me out of my funk. You could provide meaning to my life. You could be the answer to my problems."

She stared into my eyes. I felt the beginning of what could be love coming from her. A softness was opening up and I could see the intelligent woman underneath. One that was thrown into this life of violence.

"I—" she started.

"Yes?" I asked.

Without saying another word, she kissed me passionately on the lips for an agonizingly wonderful thirty seconds. Then she stood up, kicked me across the face, and walked away. I could hear a door creak open and felt her drag me by my feet. I lifted my head just long enough to see a hole in the floor; its door leaning up against the wall.

She walked around to my shoulders and lifted my dead weight and pushed me into the opening. I fell only a few feet into some kind of crawlspace. She immediately slammed the door shut and I heard a bar slide into place. I was trapped.

No cell phone on me and no way to contact the outside world. I have no idea how long I’m going to be down here. I have no idea if I’m going to die. This is insane. I’m so scared. Why does the world have to be this way? I’m so scared all the time. This world frightens me. There’s so much happening and I can’t keep up. I feel like I’ve been fading for years. I’m screaming, but nobody can hear me. Help! Please help! We’re dying in here.

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