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The Day That Destroyed us Both: Part 4 (Short Story) |
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I turn and head towards the stairs once more, but I then stop in my tracks. “I think I’ll be taking the elevator today…” I say to myself as I turn around and head towards the elevator. Me and him always walked up the stairs together; not because we were health freaks, but because it was just more time to spend together, and since no one else ever uses the stairs, we’re alone; We always would flirt, and kiss on the way up, just like we did in high school.
As I load into the empty elevator, I stand on my heels then my toes, and switch between them as I rock back and forth to the elevator music. I look up at the elevator ceiling, as if I can see right through to the elevator shaft.
The elevator stops at the third floor, and I exit. I head to my room; Room number 37, the number thirty seven; the number between 36 and 38, that’s it, nothing more, nothing less. That’s what I keep reminding myself; I know I have to stop connecting everything around me to us…to him…
I enter my room and I notice that there’s an odd silence. I mean I don’t expect there to be an excessive amount of noise or anything, but I at least expect to hear the ambient noise of the passing cars below, and all the other noises of city life. All I hear though is silence, pure silence.
As I freeze in my doorway, I hear a faint whisper, as if some one was whispering to me from the other side of the room; I swear I hear it say my name, as if longing for me, or just calling out for me. This ghostly whisper makes me cringe. I stand frozen, with an odd sensation running throughout my body. It’s partly fear, but the rest of the feeling is a deep relaxation; A stirring calmness, an uncomfortable comfort and a chilling warmth. I stood there for maybe ten minutes, waiting for the odd sensation to pass.
When the feeling passes, I just shiver; as if shaking off an exoskeleton that contained that sensation. I glance around the room, anxiously. It was like I was expecting there to be something, someone, there that didn’t belong. I shake my head, it must’ve just been one of those paranoid feelings that everyone gets; the feeling that someone is there, and watching you. Nothing more and nothing less was this, so I continue into my apartment, closing the door behind me.
I enter and fall onto my mattress. I move as to hang my head upside-down over the edge of the mattress and I look out my window. It is one of those large windows found in most lofts and galleries; one of those windows that provide a dramatic view of the city life below. I gaze at the world like this, upside down. Perhaps my views of the world are obscure, and distorted like this…Opposite of how it is. Perhaps I am letting my bias opinions blur my vision of the world around me. What I’m getting at is that maybe there was nothing going on, maybe I was just assuming certain things to be true, to be occurring.
This is when I take a deep breath and curl up, holding my knees close to my chest as I lay on my side. I lose myself in thoughts and soon drift off into a restful state that is neither awake nor asleep. I see nothing, feel nothing, and hear nothing as the ambient traffic noises caress me deeper into this trance, this state of peace and rest.
I wake up from my trance-like state and let out a yawn that shakes my body. I sit up, and I can feel that my hair is a mess, and I can see that it is when I see my reflection in the glass of my widow as I turn to see where the sun was in the sky. It must’ve been around noon, the sun looked high up and directly overhead. I must’ve been hypnotized by this relaxing and well-needed rest for at least three hours. I felt great though, all of my other nights were restless, even though I slept; The nightmares tormented me so I did not feel rejuvenated when I awoke, I felt worse, I felt exhausted,
I manage to allow a smile appear on my lips. Everyone in this world should know and understand how a good rest can make the most pathetic sap, happy. I felt so renewed, I felt like I was starting anew, which is what I am aiming for.
As I reluctantly leave the cushioned comfort of my mattress, as all people do; I stand and stretch out my arms and relieve myself of another yawn. I pause as I think I hear a noise from the hallway, rather close to my door. It sounds like footsteps that stop in front of my door, and then pass by, rather in more of a hurry than when the steps approached; I only smile at myself, “Look at myself, already trying to hear things that aren’t there.”
I walk and head to my bathroom, to fix my hair and check my appearance. As I enter the small restroom, I jump back as I watch the mirror as I enter. For a split second I see the reflection of a dark shadow, in the form of a man, standing in the corner of the bathroom. In an instance, the figure is gone, and I begin to laugh. “Being alone must be making me apprehensive,” I tell myself with a chuckle at my foolishness.
As I leave the apartment complex I have one goal, one destination, which is to pay my good friend Hougon a visit. Perhaps he could let me know what exactly he needed me for, surely he had more to discuss since he wanted me to talk to him again, and I…I don’t think I’ll mind the visit too much anymore.
I walk out onto the corner of the street, and wave down a bright yellow taxi. The taxi pulls over and I enter and tell the driver, “To the Police Department Headquarters on Fifteenth Street please.”
The driver replies with a gruff voice and thick New Jersey accent, “Alright…You in trouble or something lady?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” I tell him, “Just visiting a detective. He’s investigating my husband’s suicide.”
The driver is quiet for a moment as he pulls back into the lane and drives until he stops at a red light. “I’m really sorry for your loss. Any death is a tragedy, no matter the cause.”
“Oh, don’t mention it…really. It’ll be two year without him, tomorrow. I’ve moved on,” I reply the edges of my lips curving upward slightly. I only smile because my trail of thought wanders off of my own actions.
I find it odd how most of society will make it a point to be congenial towards strangers that they’re stuck with, but rude to people they know they won’t have to deal with. What I mean by that is, we make small talk with people in a taxi, in a bus, on a train, in an elevator heading twenty stories up or in a long line. Either we make small talk or say nothing, either one is polite in my opinion, but when it’s someone on the street that bumps you, someone in the next cubicle, someone over the internet, or some fat a** that snatches the last bag of your favorite chips as your about to grab the bag off the shelf. These people, we think, will never reenter our lives again, and can’t do anything about your insults, curses, and angry comments. Still, we seem to only care if we know we’ll have to deal with the person for an extended period or if their the only other person there. I find that wrong, but true. It’s a sad fact that people these days don’t really care unless they’ll be stuck with their problems. They think life has to be like a toilet, flush all your problems, and if you know your toilet can’t handle it, use someone else’s, which is why everyone’s lives are full of s**t. Because they have enough crap of their own, but other people think they should just s**t in their toilet because they don’t want to deal with it.
I shake my head and stare out the window as I wonder how I trailed off into my strange similes. The cab remains quiet the rest of the way there, this happens most times when an awkward point is brought up. People think it’s best to not say anymore, to avoid any more damage, but sometimes it makes people think you even more of an idiot.
The taxi soon stops in front of the police station, and I hand him his money.
“Good luck with the detective,” He says to me as I exit the taxi closing the door behind me.
I say nothing in response; I feel no reason to say anything, maybe I should’ve said “Thanks,” but then he would probably say something back.
((Sorry, this is shorter than the rest, cuz, this is all I have pre-written, so now...you have to wait. >.< wink )
 Ookami_Oshima · Sun Jun 14, 2009 @ 04:05am · 0 Comments |
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