The smell of December. People did everything a little too fast, trying to make up for the time they had wasted. Words that sounded all too familiar. The morning air was quiet and still, and from far came the faint sound of the horns of ships. The bread in the kitchen turned stale. Old faded receipts by the counter. The smell of dew and damp clothes. The usual morning, only colder.
I was late for my appointment due to a severe case of rotting in bed. My tooth was killing me. The handrail of the stairs was still rusty. The birds chirped. The leaves fluttered. The wind blew softly. The chill was the same. The land was unchanged.
A welcome mat was placed at the door, worn out but clean. A narrow corridor stretched to the waiting room. The room was spotless, and the air smelled of fluoride and mint. Muffled sounds of a dental drill were followed by a screeching noise. The sink of koi fish glowed under blue light, and the corners were filled with plastic plants, and the place felt like every dental clinic I had ever seen.
I approached the secretary to confirm my appointment. She clearly was caught up in her show but quickly switched it off as I neared. She mentioned I was late; there was no one else. I said nothing in return. Then I waited.
The deafening drill sound. He kept asking questions that I couldn’t answer because his hands were in my mouth, in a way. I wasn’t listening. I kept my eyes on the light above. He rushed out to bring something, but I didn’t hear. Everything was so quiet suddenly. Separated. Exiled. All alone in the whole world. Nothing existed outside of this room.
After I finished, I confirmed my next follow-up. The secretary looked at me like I was mad, because I didn’t know whether I’d be free or not, three months from then.
I descended the stairs slowly while checking my jaw to see if anything was visible. The clinic was warmer, so I experienced the chilly pain in my ears as I stepped outside. My nostrils curled and ached, and then it was all right again.
The light shimmered from beyond the slouching trees. The birds swirled and glided against the fabric of the sky. The leaves swayed and twirled in a smooth delicate flow. I walked in search of a bench to catch my breath. The pathway was filled with leaves everywhere. It was all too beautiful. It was all too rotten. The trees were all bare except for a few. The cold didn’t get to them I reckoned, or that was their nature. I spent time doing, as one did at that time of the year, I regretted. Time slipped over a failure of a memory. Then, I wanted breakfast.
The nearest place was a green looking café with everything mint green inside. I was starving but had no appetite. The place smelled of stale coffee and unappetizing bakeries. There were a few tables to begin with, and most of them were occupied by loud people. I sat at the farthest table I could find from all those people. The place was mainly lit by the windows with a number of faint spotlights. I sat by the window which looked at the main street. I was in touch with the world but not a part of it. The waiter asked me what I wanted. I wanted a croissant but there was none that looked good to me, so I ordered a brioche and coffee. He asked if I wanted it warmed and I agreed. It came in a round white plate with a fork and knife. The plate was very hot but the brioche not at all. It was not fresh. I dipped it in coffee with my hand. It was very distasteful.
I wondered why. I wondered why we tried. A door led to the same room and all were trapped in the same place. All those people went all over the place, walked, talked and laughed their life away. When did it come to all of this?
The clattering of plates and utensils. The loud chattering and laughing rising out of pitch. The arguing of the couple next to me. Shouting. Laughing. Crying. Joking around. The sound of a fork dropping and hitting the floor. The nonsense voices. Words. Words. Words all sounded familiar. All sounded meaningless. That was it.
That was when I noticed an old friend sitting opposite to me. I was finished and decided to leave. I wouldn’t look his way and avoided the situation altogether. I asked for the check and paid for the measly meal. I got all my stuff and stood up slowly and quietly, so I don’t stand out. Just a background sound from a background character. I passed him already but I heard someone calling my name.
It happened and I met an old acquaintance of mine. The conversation went on the usual way. “Long time no see.” “How is everything?” Are you still a loser? Am I still better than you? Look how important and busy I am. I can’t believe how a loser you are. Let’s pretend that we care about each other. I was sick of all this, and I ended the argument as fast as I could and started off the door. Nothing’s changed, only the chill was less.
I roamed everywhere and walked beyond my extent. I wandered and wondered and swept through the crowds, blended in-between, and hoped their loud mutterings would mute mine. I sat on benches and stairs, and watched all things in the world spin and people went their own separate ways in their own lives. I saw a faint crescent moon midday. I saw faces that grew bare and serious. I saw and heard and smelled with no intent at all.
The wind blew less and less. The sun glowed from behind a cloud-clustered sky.
I got back and took myself to bed, and wished to wake up in the morning to live another life.
But there I lay and there I remained. How? Why? Then and so. Beat me. I pulled the covers over me and waited for sleep. I stared at the ceiling and stared at the dirty clothes in the corner and the left sock stranded beside the door frame and at the mold on the very far corner of the wall, and at my right hand. I stared intently but moved no muscle beside my eyes. The fly kept wandering and I followed its whereabouts thoroughly. I had no thoughts and I felt nothing. The windows were closed and no sound was heard besides the ticking of the clock. The loud passage of time. Time running out. Time slipping by. Time is so important. Time is the new currency. Trade an hour for a buck. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The fly rested on my ring-finger. I dared not move. I stayed still. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I watched carefully. This fly was running out of time too. This fly was worried too. It could be so worried it wasted its time, or made the wrong life choice, or took the wrong university degree, or failed to achieve its dreams. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Ti-ck-to-ck. Probably never discovered its true self nor had fruitful decisions in the betterment of its species, and it could be an absolute failure in society, a tumor that must be removed for the evolvement of history. Might be a problem of money too, and it absolutely could be that it’s in financial troubles, and at the end of the day it must feel less than a fly. Unworthy of being a fly.
Silence swallowed us whole. There was nothing to do. Nothing but fluttering away among a drift of other leaves.
I sank in deep slumber.
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Image: TBIT Pixabay remixed
Beautiful.
Thank you