One may call it aimless… Another may call it deliberate…
He drove for hours to find this neighborhood and this place…
Skies grey with fertile clouds…
Rain hitting the windshield of his car almost horizontally…
On the way…
He didn’t think of anything…
Or anyone…
And he had no particular emotion of any kind…
He was simply searching…
Through the foggy windshield…
And between the constant left to right motion of the windshield wipers that tirelessly but quite ineffectively tried to provide him with visibility of the road ahead…
He focused his eyes… almost squinting….
Trying to find his random destination…
A landscape that matched what he felt inside…
He didn’t know what it would look like exactly…
But he was certain that he would know it when he got there…
And at 3 pm on this mid-November afternoon…
He found himself in a rundown and somewhat abandoned part of town…
He saw no color…
The streets, the buildings, the signs, everything and everything…
Were in black and white…
He pulled aside next to what used to be a motel… Ages ago it seems…
Turned off the engine of his car, grabbed his heavy bag, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut…
No point in locking the car… is there? He thought to himself…
To his surprise, the air outside of the car was just as stale and heavy as it was inside…
Standing on the sidewalk…
He looked up…
The stains and the scars adorning this old building reminded him of his own face…
And in a momentary lapse…
He saw himself standing in front of a mirror…
Looking at his own face…
Examining the now deeply ingrained lines…
The graying hair…
Footsteps of time!
Like an old and over-utilized passport filled with ink stamps on all the worn out and wrinkled pages…
These character lines…
Along with the deep expression on his face…
Which was far from what he saw himself as on the inside…
Spoke tales of a long journey…
The journey that began when he was old enough to register memories…
And the journey that brought him to this place forty or so years later…
...
He collected his thoughts…
Looked down…
And then up at the double doors atop a few stairs…
Just above the sidewalk…
Calling him inside…
He climbed the stairs that connected the sidewalk to the front door…
He counted them as he walked up…
Six…
His coat and hair…
Already soaked with rain… he grabbed the door knob and before turning it, the door swung open…
As though, he was an expected guest!
Screeching on it hinges…
The door swayed open inward until it hit the half broken metal door stop installed on the floor…
The rubber stopper had come of long ago… leaving nothing but a metal stump raising its head from the dirty, checkered, vinyl- tiled floor…
And as the wooden door frame hit the metal, the center sheets of glass-covered in muck and various pieces of paper warning visitors that the building was condemned-vibrated violently; almost shattering in place…
The scent that filled hit nostrils was a combination of humid and old wood, mold and smoke…
He drove for hours to find this neighborhood and this place…
Skies grey with fertile clouds…
Rain hitting the windshield of his car almost horizontally…
On the way…
He didn’t think of anything…
Or anyone…
And he had no particular emotion of any kind…
He was simply searching…
Through the foggy windshield…
And between the constant left to right motion of the windshield wipers that tirelessly but quite ineffectively tried to provide him with visibility of the road ahead…
He focused his eyes… almost squinting….
Trying to find his random destination…
A landscape that matched what he felt inside…
He didn’t know what it would look like exactly…
But he was certain that he would know it when he got there…
And at 3 pm on this mid-November afternoon…
He found himself in a rundown and somewhat abandoned part of town…
He saw no color…
The streets, the buildings, the signs, everything and everything…
Were in black and white…
He pulled aside next to what used to be a motel… Ages ago it seems…
Turned off the engine of his car, grabbed his heavy bag, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut…
No point in locking the car… is there? He thought to himself…
To his surprise, the air outside of the car was just as stale and heavy as it was inside…
Standing on the sidewalk…
He looked up…
The stains and the scars adorning this old building reminded him of his own face…
And in a momentary lapse…
He saw himself standing in front of a mirror…
Looking at his own face…
Examining the now deeply ingrained lines…
The graying hair…
Footsteps of time!
Like an old and over-utilized passport filled with ink stamps on all the worn out and wrinkled pages…
These character lines…
Along with the deep expression on his face…
Which was far from what he saw himself as on the inside…
Spoke tales of a long journey…
The journey that began when he was old enough to register memories…
And the journey that brought him to this place forty or so years later…
...
He collected his thoughts…
Looked down…
And then up at the double doors atop a few stairs…
Just above the sidewalk…
Calling him inside…
He climbed the stairs that connected the sidewalk to the front door…
He counted them as he walked up…
Six…
His coat and hair…
Already soaked with rain… he grabbed the door knob and before turning it, the door swung open…
As though, he was an expected guest!
Screeching on it hinges…
The door swayed open inward until it hit the half broken metal door stop installed on the floor…
The rubber stopper had come of long ago… leaving nothing but a metal stump raising its head from the dirty, checkered, vinyl- tiled floor…
And as the wooden door frame hit the metal, the center sheets of glass-covered in muck and various pieces of paper warning visitors that the building was condemned-vibrated violently; almost shattering in place…
The scent that filled hit nostrils was a combination of humid and old wood, mold and smoke…
He didn’t look around much…
He aimed for the staircase, and climbed all the way to the top…
As he climbed the staircase…
With each step…
The wooden, half broken steps, felt loose beneath his feet…
Squeaking and crackling, they created an air of uncertainty…
…
When he reached the top of the stairs…
He found himself in the middle of a hallway that stretched out to the left and to the right…
Dark brown doors...
Some with numbers on them…
Some with missing or broken digits…
At the end of each hallway…
Light was guided in through a medium size window… waist high…
One open and one with broken glass…
Both adorned by a thin sheer drape…
The draft created, blew one inward while the other was pushed into the half broken glass…
Strange… he thought to himself…
Although there was physical evidence of this draft and breeze…
He didn’t feel it against his skin…
He just smelled the rain… that was now mixed with moldy scent of this dwelling…
…
So many doors…
So many meaningless choices… Did it really matter which room he chose?
It mattered…!
He wanted to be able to see the street from the room…
He re-oriented himself for a second or two… to be able to ascertain which side of the hallway and which room would give him the best view…
He turned left and not even one third of the way down the hallway…
He stopped in front of room number nine…
For a second…
He had to check the two adjacent doors to be sure…
For out of the two nails that one day held the brass room number on the face of this door…
Only the bottom one remained… And thus the metal sign was now upside down… hanging from the bottom nail… Making the sign read six!
…
He opened the door and walked in…
Closed the door behind him…
Looked around…
A dingy and small bathroom on the right…
A tiny closet on the left…
With one of its shutters out of the railing and leaning against the other…
Despite this tight little entryway…
The rest of the room was surprisingly larger than what he had expected…
A small wooden table by the window…
And next to it...
A single wooden chair…
On the left… Where once a twin bed was… Now sat a rusty metal bed frame… Adorned with dust and cobwebs…
Right above the bed…
On the wall…
All he could see…
Was the outline of once was a frame… a picture or a mirror…
A perfect rectangle on the wall-paper covered wall… brighter and cleaner than the area surrounding it…
…
He walked to the table and put his bag down on it…
He took off his soaked coat…
Took out two packs of cigarettes and his lighter from the right oversized pocket and threw the coat on the bed frame…
Pulled out the chair that sat by the window…
And sat down…
The sound of the bag’s zipper being opened echoed in the room …
He took the two bottles he picked up from the liquor store on the way on the table…
Opened one and took a big, bitter gulp…
It instantly burned his throat…
And he could easily feel the as burning liquid went down to his empty stomach…
Leaving a trace…
Like screeching tires on the asphalt…
He can’t even recall when the last time he ate was…
The last seventy two hours are nothing but a blur to him…
…
He took out a cigarette and lit it with his Zippo lighter…
Which made the familiar and comforting clanking noise as he flicked it shut…
…
One quarter through the bottle…
And a few cigarettes later…
The alcohol didn’t burn anymore…
He was comfortably numb…
No amount of Zoloft, Paxil, or Wellbutrin could calm the storm inside of him…
But the booze easily anesthetized and dulled his senses…
…
Both elbows on the table…
His face resting on his hands…
Listening to the sound of rain…
As it tapped the window with persistence…
He raised up his head…
He opened his eyes…
Before him…
One bottle half full…
The other…
Void of liquid… instead… now, a holding place for his many cigarette butts…
Once crushed empty cigarette pack…
He quickly and instinctively checked and was comforted to find out he still had more cigarettes left...
So many meaningless choices… Did it really matter which room he chose?
It mattered…!
He wanted to be able to see the street from the room…
He re-oriented himself for a second or two… to be able to ascertain which side of the hallway and which room would give him the best view…
He turned left and not even one third of the way down the hallway…
He stopped in front of room number nine…
For a second…
He had to check the two adjacent doors to be sure…
For out of the two nails that one day held the brass room number on the face of this door…
Only the bottom one remained… And thus the metal sign was now upside down… hanging from the bottom nail… Making the sign read six!
…
He opened the door and walked in…
Closed the door behind him…
Looked around…
A dingy and small bathroom on the right…
A tiny closet on the left…
With one of its shutters out of the railing and leaning against the other…
Despite this tight little entryway…
The rest of the room was surprisingly larger than what he had expected…
A small wooden table by the window…
And next to it...
A single wooden chair…
On the left… Where once a twin bed was… Now sat a rusty metal bed frame… Adorned with dust and cobwebs…
Right above the bed…
On the wall…
All he could see…
Was the outline of once was a frame… a picture or a mirror…
A perfect rectangle on the wall-paper covered wall… brighter and cleaner than the area surrounding it…
…
He walked to the table and put his bag down on it…
He took off his soaked coat…
Took out two packs of cigarettes and his lighter from the right oversized pocket and threw the coat on the bed frame…
Pulled out the chair that sat by the window…
And sat down…
The sound of the bag’s zipper being opened echoed in the room …
He took the two bottles he picked up from the liquor store on the way on the table…
Opened one and took a big, bitter gulp…
It instantly burned his throat…
And he could easily feel the as burning liquid went down to his empty stomach…
Leaving a trace…
Like screeching tires on the asphalt…
He can’t even recall when the last time he ate was…
The last seventy two hours are nothing but a blur to him…
…
He took out a cigarette and lit it with his Zippo lighter…
Which made the familiar and comforting clanking noise as he flicked it shut…
…
One quarter through the bottle…
And a few cigarettes later…
The alcohol didn’t burn anymore…
He was comfortably numb…
No amount of Zoloft, Paxil, or Wellbutrin could calm the storm inside of him…
But the booze easily anesthetized and dulled his senses…
…
Both elbows on the table…
His face resting on his hands…
Listening to the sound of rain…
As it tapped the window with persistence…
He raised up his head…
He opened his eyes…
Before him…
One bottle half full…
The other…
Void of liquid… instead… now, a holding place for his many cigarette butts…
Once crushed empty cigarette pack…
He quickly and instinctively checked and was comforted to find out he still had more cigarettes left...
He looked out the window…
Grey brick wall on the left…
Street below…
Water streaks against the dirty glass…
His eyes quickly lost focus of the external view…
And he began to see his own reflection in the glass…
Same face…
That lately has become strange to him…
No matter how hard he has tried…
No matter how sensible and logical he has tried to be…
He can no longer reclaim who he once was…
He sees only faint remnants of his true self in this reflection…
Around his mouth… And in his eyes…
…
He brings the comforting bottle to his lips… And takes another gulp…
As he stares at his own image…
In his mind’s eye…
Random images pass in a quick and constant and dizzying precession…
And he cannot make them stop…
He reaches into the bag…
And takes out the only remaining item…
The metal feels heavy and cold…
As he places it on the table…
The thud testifies to its density and weight…
His finger tips gently trace its shape, its ridges and grooves…
…
Memories… Faces… Events… Feelings… Scents… Experiences… Achievements… Disappointments… Strengths and weaknesses… Loves & bitter losses…
They are all spinning like a dizzying merry- go-round…
He hears the deafening conversations, laughs, and cries…
Stop! Stop! Stop!
He takes the cigarette and inhales aggressively…
Takes it in deep to his lungs…
He exhales the thick cloud of smoke…
And as it clears around him…
In the glass…
Along with his own reflection…
He sees her…
Standing behind him…
Her hands…
Lovingly resting on his shoulders…
Her face…
As angelic…
As the first time he saw her…
He is still in love with her…
More than he ever was…
…
He puts his right hand on his left shoulder…
To touch her hand…
But he cannot feel her…
He reaches out to the glass…
And traces the outline of her face…
She leans her face to one side to meet his caress…
She smiles at him…
And all other thoughts abruptly give way to only one!
He hears his voice echo in his mind…
I am sorry for the all the things I didn’t or couldn’t do for you my love…
Before he can see her reaction reflected in the window, her image is gone…
She is gone…
…
He leans back in the char…
Tilting his head slightly backward…
Hesitation rushes through his body like a jolt of electricity…
He feels blood rush through his extremities…
Warm for an instant…
And chilling cold in the next…
He will not hesitate…
He will not falter…
He utters the only words he has spoken in days…
I am tired!
He pulls the trigger…
...
His body motionless...
His hands dropped by his sides...
The gun on the floor... Still Smoking...
His watch shows the time to be six o'clock in the afternoon... The time his journey ended!!!
Grey brick wall on the left…
Street below…
Water streaks against the dirty glass…
His eyes quickly lost focus of the external view…
And he began to see his own reflection in the glass…
Same face…
That lately has become strange to him…
No matter how hard he has tried…
No matter how sensible and logical he has tried to be…
He can no longer reclaim who he once was…
He sees only faint remnants of his true self in this reflection…
Around his mouth… And in his eyes…
…
He brings the comforting bottle to his lips… And takes another gulp…
As he stares at his own image…
In his mind’s eye…
Random images pass in a quick and constant and dizzying precession…
And he cannot make them stop…
He reaches into the bag…
And takes out the only remaining item…
The metal feels heavy and cold…
As he places it on the table…
The thud testifies to its density and weight…
His finger tips gently trace its shape, its ridges and grooves…
…
Memories… Faces… Events… Feelings… Scents… Experiences… Achievements… Disappointments… Strengths and weaknesses… Loves & bitter losses…
They are all spinning like a dizzying merry- go-round…
He hears the deafening conversations, laughs, and cries…
Stop! Stop! Stop!
He takes the cigarette and inhales aggressively…
Takes it in deep to his lungs…
He exhales the thick cloud of smoke…
And as it clears around him…
In the glass…
Along with his own reflection…
He sees her…
Standing behind him…
Her hands…
Lovingly resting on his shoulders…
Her face…
As angelic…
As the first time he saw her…
He is still in love with her…
More than he ever was…
…
He puts his right hand on his left shoulder…
To touch her hand…
But he cannot feel her…
He reaches out to the glass…
And traces the outline of her face…
She leans her face to one side to meet his caress…
She smiles at him…
And all other thoughts abruptly give way to only one!
He hears his voice echo in his mind…
I am sorry for the all the things I didn’t or couldn’t do for you my love…
Before he can see her reaction reflected in the window, her image is gone…
She is gone…
…
He leans back in the char…
Tilting his head slightly backward…
Hesitation rushes through his body like a jolt of electricity…
He feels blood rush through his extremities…
Warm for an instant…
And chilling cold in the next…
He will not hesitate…
He will not falter…
He utters the only words he has spoken in days…
I am tired!
He pulls the trigger…
...
His body motionless...
His hands dropped by his sides...
The gun on the floor... Still Smoking...
His watch shows the time to be six o'clock in the afternoon... The time his journey ended!!!
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