Solitary Night

The computer screen bore into his eyes as he frantically filled in the last report for the end of the month. As he clicked the last needed key, a sigh escaped his lungs, and he drummed his chopsticks expecting to hear a couple of coughs his way.

But as Benjamin looked up and around, his eyes widened to see the office vacant of people, the small room suddenly seeming spacious. His eyebrows deepened as he now faintly remembered, voices fading out the moving door, the clasp of briefcases, and the soft end of the keyboard clatters.

The rattling windows facing the city caught his attention and he walked up to see how the streets were empty but of howling winds and charging snow. His mouth hung open as he looked at his phone to see that he had missed the blizzard warning sent out two hours ago. Was it that long? He ran down to see if the security guard was at his station, but it was empty and quiet. Too quiet. For sure, there must be someone in this building. He slid behind the security cam station to see if anyone was on the floors.

Apart from the lamplights and the stoic tables, he saw no one. If there was a waddling ghost wanting to freely wander, this was a good time. He jogged to the entrance door and gasped at the outside snow mushed against the glass door threatening to swallow him whole if he even dared to leave. The clock at the reception passed 5 pm and he wondered how long he would have to stay here. If It weren’t for his ability to block our sound when focused, he might have noticed someone calling out to him, to go home.

 Benjamín felt his shoulders drop as he took the stairs up to where his office lay and walked through the passage of cubicles where his colleagues usually occupied. In each cubicle, he could see an echo of their personality, in the pen stacks, the arrangement of files, the color. Then he looked to his plain desk, only a roller pen and a pack of mints. As he coursed to the large glass window, watching the snow wrenchingly dance and prance in the blurry street, he missed the company of his cozy apartment even more.

This was the perfect night to fall asleep to the 8 pm comedy reel with warm cocoa and toast by his side, while the blizzard outside went in chaos, a complete opposite to the inside.

Lips pressed, he held the rod and closed the blinders, giving way to the glowing lamplights to be the only source of light now. As hunger uninvitingly gnawed at his stomach, he looked at the large office rooms of the Principal, where his eyes found the alpine swiss chocolates and caramel dipped pretzels the man must have brought from his Paris trip, simply adorned on his coffee table. For sure today could be an exception, he was cold and left all alone in this building. With his hand on the door handle, he stood still for a minute, tapping his feet and grasping his hair, slowly turning the handle to see that it was actually unlocked. The gods in charge of locking the rooms every night must have decided to give him leeway today.

This was Benjamín’s first time ever working in an office. But within the short time, he worked here, he could feel the adjustments he put his heart to for this job, coming off one by one.

This room too had a glorious view of the snowing city and he walks up only to close the blinds. The box of treats lay, and he rigorously opens them, eating hastily, as if someone might actually find him. He never really got to come here, might as well take his chance. While sitting on the master chair, he turns 90 degrees back and forth, his eyes lingering on one side over the framed pictures, the tiny anecdotes shaping memory, and the prized awards and certificates on the other side. He leaned back on the chair, looking up at the ceiling, knowing this was the life he was coming to. Working late, bagging titles, shaking hands with silk tie people, he could see his younger self scoffing at such a stagnant but stable life. It takes a screech to startle him and outside he sees a black tabby purring at him in the hallway, tail playfully moving about.

 Upon his feet, his arms on his hips, it might have followed him from the reception. He gives his feline company a muzzle of pets and decides to brave out to the other side of the building, where all the passion and dreams laid in a bubble. Hands-on his back, with a feline trailing quietly behind, he walks through the corridor, bulletin boards on both sides stamped with art, poetry, club meetings, each board depicting a vary of cliques. His feet stop at the soft pink flyer with flashing letters In gold, Teaching assistant needed for Performing Arts Class (year 2)-3 months”. A low sounding purr made him look away to see that the cat had walked past him and stopped at a door carved in flowers and a curled door handle. He knew of this room. In fact, during his first day on his school tour, he had walked past it, merely glancing at the pacing bodies. There must have been something in the darkness and glistening snow outside that gave him the courage he would not usually own in the daylight of rattle and battle. Also, he was sure no one was here.

So, he opened the door, and in there was, the wide polished floor and a ballet stand by the corner. A branch of memories crept at his spine and he stepped back to leave when the tabby meowed solemnly. He turned back to see the pair of glowing green eyes in the far black void of the room. He snapped his fingers, calling it out to come, but the eyes stayed the same place. He sighed and took off his boots, throwing them to the side. He should be going back to his office, calling someone for help, no more business at a room like this, but as his toes emerge into the floor, no longer he is taking steps, but sliding as one would on an ice rink thanks to his dry wool socks. The last time he stepped on a wooden floor like this, he could have sworn it could have been many years except it was only half.

The rough rattles of the glass wall made him even chillier as he crossed his arms, sliding towards the closed curtains, the eyes of the cat, his torchlight. His hands held the robe and paused before he pulled the curtains out and was almost blinded by the whiteness of the icy filled ground and the white-streaked sky and pulled a long sigh.

As he turned to look at the long mirrors, the stereos, the rack of ballet shoes, for Benjamin, this room was his world once, all he ever knew. A purpose-filled world he prepared and worked for his whole life, he never thought it would be the same world that would kick him out to a life he now felt drained at. The reflection of the snowing city danced on the floor, the mirror, and in his feet. He no longer felt physical pain, but his attempt at a pirouette failed as his feet refused to budge. An invisible stack of excuses began to pile on his feet, as he tried to move again. Loosening his tie, he curled his arms toward his chest, listening to the white noise of the thumping window, the ghostly wind, he looked outside to see the circling snow forming its own pirouette, and he felt the force on his feet lighter. He made a big turn too fast and crashed on the hard waxed floor slipping to the side.

This is the sign he told himself, he should be going back, he is obsolete now in this world. The garb of guilt whispered to the hope to give up, but there must have been something in the shadows, the energy of the falling snow outside, that pushed hope to scoff at guilt and refuse to falter. On his feet again, one tip and another toe, he was turning now, his hands up in the air, palms wavering. The tiny shadows danced on his palms, his gelled hair coming loose, his scorned heart pulsating. Although alone, he did not feel lonely now. As he turned to look at the wide mirror, his body stopped in surprise. A happy smile had made it’s a rare appearance, on him. The snowdrops glistened like diamonds against the lamplight outside, the snow-covered cars and grizzly fur behind the lark trees, his aching soul was not alone anymore. Like every unexplored rage and sadness that comes to an end, the evening snow had stopped falling and the hasty wind resigned in slumber. He held the window blinds, closing it slowly but then stopped and turned to leave the room.

As Benjamín walked back along the hallowed corridors, he took the pink trimmed flyer, folding it neatly in his pocket, boots in his hand, his once heavy feet now light and carefree.