Dust

The layer of dust in the bookshelves got thicker. If something is acquired, the first place it lands is also the last place it will ever be. Everything is still in its original spot, and I don’t think I will ever allow it to be changed. The little gold picture frame lost its shine and the vibrant color of the roses faded. Both seemed unimportant, with no real impact on my daily tasks but these items stopped being useless when the memories of old friendships started to become harder to grasp. What could’ve been a minute became consecutive months, and these simple objects became significant elements within my house. The frame was empty and the roses were fake, but they were only there as a distraction.

Predictable is the perfect word to describe my life. Even the time I dedicate to daily tasks hasn’t changed in a long time, and neither did the setting where those actions take place. Walking from the bed to the closet takes about two steps, to open the window of this room exactly zero steps, and to reach the entrance door five steps. Everything has been in the same place ever since I moved here. The only source of natural light is a small window right next to the bookshelves. I certainly should’ve noticed the size of the house before renting it, but the urgency to live alone didn’t allow me to give it much thought. The rays of light in the early morning were too soft to illuminate the room, so the gold picture frame reflected some of it, and the shy beams of light hitting the roses appeared to be a living being keeping me company. It has always been a struggle to welcome the sun into a room that hated visitors, but today something felt different.

What was already an unfamiliar quiet morning only got more strange, as the usual sounds of everyday life were unheard. Waking up when most people already started their day became part of my routine, and their absence made me feel uneasy. The heavy rain from yesterday had enough power to drown the city, and that feeling sneaked into the room before the morning arrived. Perhaps the sun wanted to creep in today to ease this unnatural heaviness. Every little thing felt the need to get noticed today. The picture frame has been in the same spot for so long, but only today did I decide to doubt why it was there.

The alarm woke me up at exactly 9:30 am, the same as every day, but the morning greeted me with an overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity. I needed to see people hurriedly accomplishing their daily goals, the constant sound of car doors slamming shut, and even angry drivers screaming at someone on a roundabout. All of it sounds so simple, but it made everything a lot easier.

Today though, the streets were burdened with loneliness. The dry crinkly leaves would not be stepped on by an office worker on his way to work. The wet pavement, evidence of last night’s rain, would remain untouched. The city felt empty and decaying like someone had taken its heart only to crush all aspects implied in the word “life” until nothing was left. I wish I was able to decrypt the meaning of life but the reality is far more confusing, complex, and essentially inarticulable. The idea of minimizing all of its intricacies into a measly number of words almost sounds insulting. Yet, it is this unexplainable concept that makes it harder to live happily. Going for a walk sounds like one of those stupid attempts at finding a solution to a problem. But even if the answer isn’t hidden under a bench waiting to be found, the sound of our own footsteps could be enough to bring a percentage of tranquility. Whether we want to accept it or not, we do need people around us, even if they simply walk past us. The existence of others living a life as complex as yours should be enough. The rest is meaningless. Life is more about being busy to avoid thinking about these things, but the universe has its ways to trick you into falling into the same well of unanswerable questions. You can’t consistently ignore what’s bothering you and somehow expect bliss, but sometimes that’s the only choice you have. So I waited, hoping the typical course of the day would return. Cross-legged on my bed, I waited as if the world would feel pity for me.

The gold picture frame and the roses were still in the same spot. The ominous silence was still there, but somehow the air became easier to breathe. My hands were tense, grasping the bedsheets and twisting the fabric in my fingers to try to stop me from thinking about how uneasy I felt. It was the sound of a car door slamming shut that snapped me out of my thoughts. A suspicious breeze entered the room checking if it was safe to do so, and the sound of people simply existing slowly took over. I felt relieved but still confused about this odd Monday morning. The same way the curtains trusted the breeze to let them move, I decided to trust the sounds of the city to let my feet touch the ground. My hands were still tense and I was slightly wary of my surroundings, but it finally felt like any other morning. I let myself close my eyes at this moment of relief, but a loud and sudden alarm sound prevented me from achieving tranquility. I wanted to turn it off, but what showed up on the screen startled me more than the previous eerie events. It’s the second time I’ve heard this sound.

Today, just like any other day, I woke up at 9:30 am. The silent city was begging for action, but time didn’t move like previous days. It felt like it had stopped, but the alarm rang twice.