The silliness of the situation

A black stallion in a flock of sheep. Quite a first impression but please do not misunderstand. He was the opposite of majestic. He was simply an oddity. The queue for a morning coffee at Arry’s was draining me of my patience and I kept glancing down at my watch while making my frustration known vocally. The bland scenery of the town imprinted on my mind left little to no interest in making myself aware of my surroundings. A dull Tuesday morning. However, no one would dare utter it. How would cereal brands and milk manufacturers thrive if mornings were truly tasteless? You just had to believe that, one day, everything would magically go your way, even after thirty-five years of dull mornings. Anyway, my morning reverie came to an abrupt end with a “Next, please!”. Arry’s was a few blocks away from the station and as I made my way gliding through the matinal crowd, the paper cup, already half-emptied of its dark brown content, provided some respite from the biting cold to my fingers. Surprisingly, he did not stand out as you would expect. After all, it was no movie set. Just plain old reality. An intersection like any other. What caught my eye was neither his black suit and hat nor the sinister air that seemed to surround him. It was not the fact that he towered over the tallest passersby by at least twenty centimeters or that he did not budge in the slightest when others would carelessly bump into him. It was none of that. It was his silhouette. While most would unknowingly bleed in the landscape, he, as strange as it sounds, kept himself from doing so. For my part, I could almost blend with the discolored pavement. Almost. Motion kept me alive. The man was certainly waiting for the green light to get to the other side, just like the others standing in front of the pedestrian crossing. I reminded myself that I had no time to spare on analyzing perfect strangers. Hurrying my steps, I made a turn, leaving the man and intersection behind. By lunchtime, my morning thoughts and analysis had vanished. Work demanded far too much concentration for me to waste my brain on unnecessary details of life. I admit I was quite bitter but life is no wine tasting. It is not refined and clearly, far from easy. Going back home was a solace in this decaying world for my tattered heart; a mother’s embrace for the orphan. As the night quietly settled over the town, the nightlife shyly made its entrance. Shops were closing and I passed by without sparing them a look. This was now a routine. The next day started as an exact replica of the previous one and would certainly, end the same. Days of identical misery. Arry’s was still as packed as the underground at five in the afternoon on a weekday. Exiting the cafe, hot coffee in hand, I directed my steps towards the station. Simply passing by the intersection would not have brought back my silly analysis if it was not for the man standing at the exact same spot. In the exact same clothes. I instinctively slowed down to study him a little more. It striked me that it could be a mere coincidence but I felt compelled to look anyway. He seemed intrigued by something on his left but no matter how much I studied his profile, I could not make any of his facial features out. It was all a blur. I started to wonder if a visit to the optician was needed and that’s when I noticed him raising his wrist while looking down. I realized the intent of his action and mimicked it, only to find that I would be missing my train if I did not start running. Upon entering my office, I started cursing myself for such foolishness. I must have looked like a madman sprinting down the street, bumping into others and formulating incoherent apologies. A part of me thanked the stranger while the other could only blame him for this. For the first time, in what must have been months, I found myself laughing at the silliness of the situation. As I laid in my bed that night, I thought that, perhaps, not all days are the same. Thankfully, I was lucky enough not to see him on the following day. Looking at the small crowd waiting at the crossing still made me smile though. He did not show up on Friday either. Saturdays were always much more pleasant; as if time had started slowing down. My shift started in the late afternoon and Arry’s would seem less crowded as I went for my afternoon coffee. I decided to pair it with an egg sandwich. The sky had blessed us with a yellow glow, almost orange, and the air was a little warmer. It reminded me of the summer days back home and nostalgia would have surely taken over me if it was not for the man. Again, standing at the intersection, in the black suit of his. I found myself wondering, “What in the world is he waiting for?”. The light was green, had he not noticed? That is when I saw what he was staring at or to be precise, who. It was me. I may have been wrong since my eyes could barely focus on his face. He stood in the sun, making it harder for me to make out his expression, but the chill I felt coursing through my entire body seemed a good enough indicator. He meant no good. But no one else seemed to be bothered. Could it have been my eyes and fatigue playing a sneaky trick on me? I decided that confrontation was certainly not the brightest idea and simply continued to make the turn. I did not look back. I concede that this course of action was incredibly childish but psychopaths roam the streets like everybody else. Most of the time, there are no warning signs. However, when there are, would you joyfully approach one? I doubt so. I had just wasted my brain. Sunday allowed me some peace of mind as I laid listless in my apartment but as the night drew nearer, I found myself praying not to encounter that man again. Brave was indeed not my middle name but who could blame me? I could always take a different route but I would have to wake way earlier than before and I learned over the years that a sleep-deprived me performs poorly while attaining new heights in bitterness. There was also the coffee at Arry’s; not quite the best but by far not the worst. Changing my itinerary would be a last resort. As I reviewed the situation one more time, it hit me again. The silliness, that is. A man, with whom I had never spoken, whose face I cannot describe and who probably knew nothing of me, could not be plotting to kill me. Maybe the air was not that warm that day? Maybe he was looking past me? I would be changing my lifestyle over utter nonsense! It was no movie set. Just plain old reality. A man like any other. Monday came. As I approached the intersection, the man was there. This time I would be waiting for him. I needed some answers that only he could provide. Being late once in a while would not be dramatic. As the light changed, people began crossing on both sides. The crowd kept dwindling but the man remained still. Unfazed by the bustling life before his eyes. Unfazed by my insistent stare slowly turning into confusion. However, our eyes did meet. I was greeted with a disturbing smile as he acknowledged the awkward interaction. His grin rendered me speechless. It had threatened to rain when I woke up that day. I felt a drop. Then, two. I mindlessly looked up to see frightening deep grey clouds. I blinked and the man was gone. In a matter of minutes, a thick veil of rain engulfed the town. Going after him would be futile, not in an agglomeration of umbrellas. As I hastily opened mine, I cursed my luck. On the brighter side, I would be excused from my tardiness. My patience was running out. I needed to know who he was. “Tuesday will be the day”, I reluctantly whispered to myself as I turned away. And indeed, Tuesday was the day. There was no coffee at Arry’s that day. I had asked for a day off, which had not happened in ages. There was no work either. There would be no need to rush. I could feel my heart beating to the rhythm of my steps. I was convinced this man would think I was delirious but it was a petty price to gain back my sense of safety and most importantly, my sanity. Adrenaline kept my body alert but my mind was solely focused on meeting the mysterious man. How careless of me. I should have known better. Meddling with a stranger could only be problematic. But I felt empowered, almost younger. Almost. Motion was keeping me alive. But motion was the end of me. From afar, the man had seen me approaching and nodded as if to greet me. For obscure reasons that I still do not grasp,even now, he turned away. He would not escape me again. I began to run. “Not this time”, is what I thought as I crossed the street. All I could see was his slender obsidian back. The smell of coffee hardly reached me. I had not seen the red light. I did not notice the car coming from my right. I barely heard the screams. I truthfully never acknowledged the pavement before hitting it. I faded away, bleeding into the landscape. Blending with the pavement. Tuesday was indeed the day. And I woke up.