His life isn't something from a movie, not a poem from a book - an ordinary life with ordinary people. Yet somehow, he sees the beauty within, the opportunities which present themselves in front of his eyes and he refuses to let go. The sun and the moon, to him, are not that far away. It can be reached. Each morning, he'd get up, the routine familiar to him - morning ablutions, getting dressed and then the morning coffee. Almost like a ritual, but it got him through the day. The good as well as the bad ones. Never in his life had he thought that little things such as these would matter so much, would be of such importance. A creature of habit, many people called him, but he didn't mind. He started his days right and ended them in the best way possible. A cup of tea before the bed to calm his frazzled nerves; to silence the voices of the day, so he'd get enough sleep to get through another night. When the doorbell rang at 6 a.m. he'd only managed to get dressed, his coffee gurgling, not done yet. He opened the door as unsuspecting as a lamb, just to see a nightmare standing right in front of him. It couldn't be true, he told himself, even as he looked into those midnight eyes. No. He couldn't be standing there. He knew! He'd killed him almost a decade ago. But here they were, facing each other, the last time they laid eyes on one another replaying in his head like a movie. An argument, a crash, running through the yard and a shovel in his hands, surprised expression on his face when he realized he held onto it, and then everything was a blur. A punch in the face, the rage he felt at that moment and then his nerves calming down as the shovel descended onto his friend's head. He'd killed him, he was sure of it. Yet as they stood in the doorway, facing each other, nothing seemed impossible. Nothing. His very own existence felt threatened. He had cause to worry as his long lost friend pulled out a gun and shot him without a second thought, then walked away without a backward glance, just as he did long time ago... |