Living Vessels

The bearded man stood on the marble stairs of the park’s stage and raised his Big Gulp cup over his head. “Drink deeply and live!”

Five onlookers watched him with faint curiosity. This was new.

He paused to wipe rub his face on a worn and well-stained sleeve. Then he squeezed his nose and flung the residue away with a meaty slap. “Don’t be shy—or grossed out. We’re all sinners here. Filthy, goddamned sinners.”

A skinny black guy in a coat that might have fit him once, licked his lips and stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid.”

Gleefully, the bearded man thrust the cup out. Inside, almost to the brim, a thick, viscous fluid sloshed back and forth. Purple bubbles of froth dotted the top in small masses.

With shaking hands, the black man took hold of the cup and raised it until it was just under his nose. It smelled faintly of strawberries and nothing else. It was almost as if any other smells had been erased. There was almost a tangible absence of smell. He tilted the cup up and let the liquid kiss his lips.