Madam Moira glanced at the senator; pointed to the rock on the table before her, long and flat. “Some people like the mortar and pestle. I prefer stone.”
“Why?” Humor the woman.
“I like to feel the moment the essence is broken.”
“Everyone's made of it.”
“The soul, you mean.”
“Call it what you will.” She extended her right arm, index finger and thumb poised as if to pluck. When she reached his heart, she closed in upon empty space; drew her finger and thumb inward; mimed tugging.
“I almost felt that.” The senator laughed.
Moira held the empty space to the light, pretending to examine it. She placed the essence upon the rock; took another stone; brought it down on top. He noticed there was a little space between the rocks as she twisted and turned and pushed. She closed her eyes with exertion. Sweat beaded upon her forehead.
“What's the goal here?” Why had his wife sent him?
“To crush the essence.”
“You want to destroy my soul?”
“Your job has already done that.” As she replied, the two rocks met.
“Your rocks. There's no space between them anymore.”
She opened her eyes; smiled broadly. “Your essence is destroyed.”
Suddenly the senator felt a wave of fear. There was some tingling where Moira had extracted the invisible thing. “What happens now?”
“A little pain. A little sadness. And then, you'll disappear.”
“Help me,” he said. “I'll pay anything. I'll do anything.”
From behind Moira, a curtain opened, revealing a laughing cameraman. “Got it all on tape.”
Moira narrowed her eyes.“You vote for that bill and this video will make the eleven o'clock news.”
“Just trying to survive, senator.” She left the tent with the cameraman.
The senator sat in silence, fingering the invisible essence on the stone before him. He wondered what he was made of and whether he'd been destroyed.
This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. The word was crush.