Lying Dormant In Some Mind

LYING DORMANT IN SOME MIND

	After eleven long years, he pointed the familiar cylinder to the roof of his mouth again.

	His entrails turned into boiling goo. His skin buzzed with that weird, nervous electricity. There came a moment, so unlike the past twenty minutes, which he spent in the identical position – completely still, save for a barely noticeable but constant trembling – when one's weight, finally and irreversibly, crosses the fatal limit of some horrible cliff.

	The moment of decision. In a strange way, he felt the decision was already made for him by some other when the moment came.

	Clumsily clutching his entire fist, he hears a quiet explosion. It briefly sparks a hint of some glorious, ethereal harmony he heard somewhere, sometime in the past. In a split second, his determination catches him off-guard. Then, he surprises himself again with the fact that, after all his thought and reflection, he was still caught off-guard somehow. The loop might've went on indefinitely if his thoughts, which possessed a life of their own, didn't decide to leave the scene…

	It's dark here.

	He sees dispersed light shining through someone's bushy hair. He feels a pair of small arms embracing his rib cage. The embrace slowly dies down when, suddenly and involuntarily, he yields and pushes the girl away; turns her around and starts beating her on the back with an open palm.

	„What are you doing?!“

	It's her. He hadn't seen the woman in years and was often dumbfounded by it. Not in the streets, not in coffee shops, not in a park. They were so close once and he was sickened when he'd remember the intimacies they would share on countless mellow nights. All those were now forgotten and betrayed.

	„I'm stupid.“, he says with a sour smile, „burned your hair a little. It's okay now, though.“

	They resumed their walk. Now, as he was reminiscing, the park seemed even darker and even more dream-like than that night. Before, they would come to a halt after each lamp just to hold each other tightly in the dark. Tonight, there was no stopping after the one, meek hug. They weren't holding hands. The gap between them was so wide that a cyclist could ride through the formation, leaving all three parties unfortunately unharmed.

	If he'd known this was their final embrace, maybe he would've said something. Something poignant, or something sincere at least.
	But he didn't. He walked her home silently and watched her climb the stairs leading to her house. After reaching the top, she looked over her shoulder quickly, before recoiling in shame or pride.

 	„See you around.“

	He stood on the warm concrete until there was a whimper coming from a room on the first floor.

	When he got home, he cried too; until he finally fell asleep in the early morning hours.

	Maybe it was their age, he thought, maybe not. He was sure that he'll never have something like that ever again. Each next girl merely hinted at her grace and warmth. After many years had passed, he realized that accepting hints as optimal reality was maybe the most essential part of growing up. So he married.

	He wouldn't cry again until the death of his father.

	He wouldn't light a cigarette again until the death of his father…

	Feeling a sharp pain in his pointer and middle fingers, he wakes up from the daydream. He puts out his cigarette in the heavy, crystal ashtray and wipes the tears with his forearm. He waits a little, picks himself up and grabs the phone.
	Preparations for the funeral should be under way.