The wind blew on his undercut icy cold, but his neck always has a reserved place for that sensation that tingled his skin so familiarly.
Even though the black turtleneck was supposed to have his back, or his neck, it didn’t deprive him of feeling exposed.
He tried to adjust the collar of his coat but that was too much effort to waste.
And so he threw each step demanding on the concrete pavement, as if looking forward to that…looking forward to what exactly, though?
Having a sense of his legs resisting the firm but equal force that the pavement exerted on his foot?
Or even having a sense of his legs at all, they didn’t feel weightless and about to drift away, they kept him up and moving.
He might have just forgotten that for a while now, or didn’t bother to notice.
The city was groggy, impregnated with what you could already feel in your lungs as a dense mist that engulfed each skyscraper.
It danced around them synchronized with its reflection on the perfectly shiny glasses of the buildings.
And they conquered the sky, they pierced the night sky with the audacity of a sick invader and they watched it mourn. They watched it drop by drop fall on their heads, unbothered, glorious.
The man too, felt it mourn, or so he wanted to call it.
He wanted to watch it mourn like the sick invaders did, on the rooftop, feeling it closer, but he could only be a little ant in comparison to the giants and watch it form a far.
It washed over his face, he liked to think it washed over his black circles too, but the man could only wish. The abundant ads shone the most blinding although eye-opening, neon lights.
They too soaked his milky skin in reds and purples and yellows that changed repeatedly, almost psychedelic.
He wanted to think the traffic jam did not exist, so his restless feet could wander around without risking, like those little kids who had seen Christmas colors and snow for the first time.
He wanted to dance around, arms wide open, eyes tightly shut and maybe he would get some company too. Oh, how he wished for some company.
Something knocked on the door once, and maybe twice. It felt like coming from his left, but he was around an urban noise that he assumed would neutralize the random knocks.
And a phone started to ring, ring, ring, ring. There was a woman’s voice far from reach.
…and then it hung up.
Obviously no answer. But the man could not answer.
To whom? How? What phone would he answer? Who was knocking at the door?
The rain poured lazily on him, and the knocks grew faster , from his left, right, up his stomach, down his throat, they demanded an answer.
He looked unbothered, the neon lights flashed violently and ….there was a static sound buzzing on his ears.
Was he malfunctioning? Maybe if he looked hard enough on his hand he could watch it glitch. Or were the skyscrapers glitching? The rain stopped pouring and his body was suspiciously tranquil.
Then a woman took him by the hand and she…, well she wasn’t there anymore. Her hands remained, and they were independent.
They wiped the rain pouring from his eyes as the tears that fell from the sky.
She ruffled his black hair in a familiar manner and cupped his face into her cold hands, and he knew, he recognized the pattern.
He though he heard a giggle somewhere from the back of the road, or the back of his head. And he tried to follow it, only it faded away. And popped back in.
It tensed him, how the giggle travelled as he grabbed the fabric of his jacket firmly on a fist.
Or was the hand grabbing on his jacket? His own fingers started to uncontrollably tick in a manner he could not keep under leash.
It was hard to tell if his shaky body was because of the cold or perhaps he saw a ghost? Most certainly not.
He’d be happy if only a ghost appeared in front of him and vanished his confusion and distraught, because he needed a reason to feel this way. He had none, or not one he was aware of.
And then the hand bought him a drink, his favorite unsweetened coffee and something resonated across his head.
“I have a feeling we’ve met before.”
If only he recognized where the words came form because …it was his own voice. Only it came from somewhere, a corner of his head he wasn’t aware existed.
He opened the can of coffee and sat somewhere the hand took him too. It was next to a vending machine. His legs told him to sit on the ground and so he did.
He was starting to have no say on what he wanted or didn’t want to do. As he cracked the coffee can open and sipped on his tears ,it started to mix with the coffee dripping out of his eyes.
He felt the familiar voice again, and it’s words unburied themselves out of his unconsciousness.
“You have the eyes of a dead person. The dead cannot stop me.”
A switch was flipped. Who? …WHO? Who was the dead and who disappeared? He started to count each of his heartbeats, in an attempt to distract himself, maybe because he knew, only he wasn’t alone.
The hand intertwined his and his heartbeat suddenly softened. It squeezed his in a familiar manner that was meant to make him remember.
“The lies hardest to bear are the ones you tell yourself.”
Each step he took, a white spider lily fell from his hand. It got soaked on the muddy puddles the sky’s tears left behind.
“He’ll come back, she’ll come back. And we’ll all live happily ever after. ”
He kept repeating that over and over so much that his mouth ran dry and a ray of light cracked the night sky.
He wanted to stop walking, stop moving, just STOP, but his legs were wired to walk forever towards the dark skies. Though the night was shattering and light was spilling its colors everywhere.
He wishes to not see the light although the day never asked upon a man’s wish to awaken.
“But ,you see, we never left. Honey, we are bound to break together.”