It's a short story I've written, and I was obviously inspired from Nick Cave's song 'As I Sat Sadly By Her Side and Tom Waits' 'November'.
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He didn't know whether he should do this again. It wasn't the right thing to do, but he wanted to have a chance, he wanted to hear the truth and know everything that lied hidden behind her cold face. Then he could depart, and he would get the chance to forsake this dull and tiresome life of his. For once he desired to be the one who goes away.
Gently he pushed the small door before her house's front yard. By the time he was before her door his heart was beating like a hammer and he would swear that if it kept beating this way, it would jump out of his chest and he would die, eternally yearning for her. Somehow that thought pleased him. He'd really enjoy it if one day he perished and she was the first to know. Maybe then she would feel guilt, like a child that lied to her father, or she could even realize that she loved him still. To do this one would need guts. Something he lacked, or better lost long ago. Along with his guts he had lost his dignity, his pride and the will to feel happy, or even smile. Did it matter? I don't think so. I remember he once stated that all that mattered for him was to make her feel even the slightest emotion.
He was just staring at the door's knob, wishing he could just turn it, and get in. Then everything would be just like it used to, and maybe she would be in there, sitting on her favorite sofa, smiling and just listening to Leonard Cohen and reading for the hundredth time Charles Bukowski's 'Women'.
When he finally got a grip back on reality, for once again he raised his hand, and he was knocking on the door. Again and again and again. He spent about fifteen minutes just waiting for her to appear, but that was nothing new. It was like a thing he was obliged to do on a daily basis. Nobody forced him, except for himself. Abruptly she turned the key, unlocked the door and looked at his jaded face, and then straight in to his eyes, that had the color of sapphire. After a few seconds he started breathing again, and wondered if his mind was playing games. But no. She was there, standing still and emotionless.
She turned away from him and paced towards the window next to the red velvet sofa. He followed, bewitched by her scent. The only thing that remained the same. Blandly he sat next to her. “Why would someone keep coming back to a place of such distress and tormentation?”she asked. “I don't understand what you are talking about anymore.” he replied and looked at the world that fell outside the window. The cat came up to her, and sat in her lap. She stroked it mechanically, distant from any real feeling of affection, and slightly pressed her face onto the glass.
“Watch the one falling in the street. See him calling out for a helping hand, while all others pass him by. All outward motion connects to nothing for each is concerned with their immediate need.” he broke the silence. She stared at him with her wide open black eyes, gradually devouring his soul. The cat jumped off her lap and landed on the wooden floor, that creaked with the slightest move.
She shut the curtains and responded “When will you ever learn that what happens beyond the looking glass is absolutely non of your concern? God scorns your benevolence just as he scorns the absence of it in everybody else, nor does he care whether you abhor the world He has created or not!”. And then she turned her head elsewhere with endless tears leaping from her eyes, when a smile he could not wipe off started spreading on his pale face.
“I once lived. I still can recall happy times, but my memories with the passing of time are slowly becoming atrocious lies. Every single thing we went through together had its meaning, even though I can't understand it anymore. I can't tell any other stories from my life, for the past is done and it'll never come back. The last thing I felt on me was a rose. Maybe then she felt something too.”
No shadow, no stars, no moon, no cars November, it only believes in a pile of dead leaves and a moon that's the color of bone. What a strange November, this November was.
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