7and8

For three nights in December I wore a costume/mantle, my face and identity hidden. I walked through yards and peaceful neighborhoods on surgically planed missions. At first it was a public service with a benefit of extroverted anonymity. It became something else. As I pretended to be bigger than I am, I wanted to be a convincingly genuine facsimile. That facade seeped inward. I felt the responsibility to the visage, the play became the muse.
Invulnerability is real. I found myself so devout that I didn't care what happened to me. However, this symbol I animated had to remain unblemished. Stand straight, walk tall, exude legend.
Time and toil that surrounded my missions disappeared. Paradoxically, I hoped that I was an unimpeachable liar. If I had deceived then my conscience was clear and the dark, sweaty nights where merely a job well done with the warmth of satisfaction.
Then came gratitude. Those who knew my true identity, thanked me. That was the easy part. Then came gifts, tokens. I was impressed, tempted and indulgent. The aftertaste of this gratitude is guilt. The costume has healthily stained my character. I believe in what this hero stands for I'll turn gratitude leveled at me to yet another's unexpected fortune. People should do good for goodness sake.