Taste The Rainbow

Alex peered anxiously into the gilt-framed mirror and sighed. Looking attractive seemed to be a lost cause these days. Discouraged, he returned the trappings of potential beauty to the dresser drawer and took a step backward.

He'd always adored the amber-orange kimono which complimented his dark skin; but, on this evening, it merely lent a waxen, sallow cast to his complexion. He tightened the silken sash.

"Pathetic, prehistoric queen," he bitterly told the aging reflection.

Decades had trickled past since he'd been involved in any meaningful relationship. True, he could always pick up the young studs who roamed the Strip but, after taking his money, they would callously abandon him to loneliness hours before the break of dawn.

In the clubs, whether by accident or design, he'd sometimes overhear them comparing notes.

"Disgusting old faggot," they'd sneer...or something worse. The disparaging remarks stung and made him feel sick to his stomach.

Alex missed the warmth and tenderness that came only with love. All he'd ever really wanted was to cherish and be cherished. He'd known such euphoria once...a very long time ago.

Wandering into the living room, he sank wearily into the plush cushions of the overstuffed velvet couch. The image of Ru Paul flickered on the television screen, effervescent and incredibly stunning. Alex smiled regretfully. He'd never managed to achieve such perfection, not even in his prime.

The picture faded to a commercial break...a shower of kaleidoscopic candies and the happy sound of children's infectious laughter.

"Skittles," coaxed a soft, persuasive voice. "Taste the rainbow."

Selecting a hearty handful of his own multi-colored, lethal-laced confections, Alex toasted the sentiment with his glass of imported red wine. The tiny cubes of ice clinked merrily.

"I'll drink to that!"

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