Night in the city
I can't stay inside. I have to get out. Out into the streets. Into the nightlife. Not to participate in it, no, just to be an outside observer. Walking through the streets I'm listening to the fragments of music, conversations - maybe fights - floating around me. In between there are the oases of tranquility. The low humming of the distant highway is making their silence only more profound. On the opposite side of the street, a man and a woman are walking leisurely passed steel-grid-protected shops, looking through the fences at goods not likely they'll ever manage to pay for. The last bus for this night, too early as usual, drives by. Gloomy faces, too tired to focus, entranced by the passing lights, are staring out. Their destination unknown. Life is like a bus I think then. We get on it somewhere - or perhaps I should say: some when - and maybe we have a destination. But the bus of life delivers us, sometimes too early, sometimes too late, at probably another destination then we first envisioned. Such is life. Footsteps behind me. Flashes of hasty pursuits shoot through my mind. Conditioned by countless police serials. Anxiety, I can't look behind me, can't admit the fear. Primary reflexes. My body is yelling ‘Scram’; my mind is analytical about it all. Is it only another lone walker - why am I presuming that it is a man? I scan the street ahead. Are there people around? Any bar still open? Yes, in the distance I see the couple I noticed earlier, coming back this way. Although my mind keeps telling me that there was never any danger, only now my body is relaxing. I don't hear the footsteps anymore. I look behind me. Nobody. Was my imagination playing tricks on me?
The rhythm of my walk lifts me up in some kind of trance. Without further noticing the world around me, I walk on, drifting in dreams. My imagination. The footsteps are back, louder now. I stop in front of a shop, trying to seem unencumbered. Looking at the goods displayed. The footsteps stop right beside me. A young husky voice breaks the silence. "Interested in lingerie?" First there is the shock. The shock of realizing that indeed the shop dealt in women underwear. The shock of that person speaking to me. Only slowly I begin to recognize the voice. I turn, and yes, my neighbor, that is, the girl living two houses away from me. I blush, unable to explain. She laughs, seeing my unease with the situation. "Lets have a drink", I say, trying to cover up. "OK", she replies, smiling that same smile again. Excuses are building up in my mind. About my sis having her birthday, my girlfriend perhaps? "Were you following me?", I suddenly ask her, getting myself off defense. Her smile vanishes. I can see her think about it, mulling it over in her mind. "No", the smile returns, "Or do you want it to be yes?" At that point the answer I had prepared is pre-empted by a car that has to break abruptly because I didn't notice the red light when crossing the street. The man in the car shakes his head. I know what he thinks. Just another loner. I can't say he's wrong about that.
Slowly I return home. At every corner I hope to see the girl from next door again. At every corner the streets ahead are empty. I feel more lonely the when I started out. Nothing ever happens of what I dream about. I feel as if it is my own fault. I feel guilty. My crime is being too normal. I want to get out, but can't. There are too many ties, keeping me threaded to this kind of life. I'm unable to pay the price of breaking them. I pass the house of the girl and see that the lights are still on. A burst of fantasy: ring that bell. But instead I walk on and get back inside.
The rhythm of my walk lifts me up in some kind of trance. Without further noticing the world around me, I walk on, drifting in dreams. My imagination. The footsteps are back, louder now. I stop in front of a shop, trying to seem unencumbered. Looking at the goods displayed. The footsteps stop right beside me. A young husky voice breaks the silence. "Interested in lingerie?" First there is the shock. The shock of realizing that indeed the shop dealt in women underwear. The shock of that person speaking to me. Only slowly I begin to recognize the voice. I turn, and yes, my neighbor, that is, the girl living two houses away from me. I blush, unable to explain. She laughs, seeing my unease with the situation. "Lets have a drink", I say, trying to cover up. "OK", she replies, smiling that same smile again. Excuses are building up in my mind. About my sis having her birthday, my girlfriend perhaps? "Were you following me?", I suddenly ask her, getting myself off defense. Her smile vanishes. I can see her think about it, mulling it over in her mind. "No", the smile returns, "Or do you want it to be yes?" At that point the answer I had prepared is pre-empted by a car that has to break abruptly because I didn't notice the red light when crossing the street. The man in the car shakes his head. I know what he thinks. Just another loner. I can't say he's wrong about that.
Slowly I return home. At every corner I hope to see the girl from next door again. At every corner the streets ahead are empty. I feel more lonely the when I started out. Nothing ever happens of what I dream about. I feel as if it is my own fault. I feel guilty. My crime is being too normal. I want to get out, but can't. There are too many ties, keeping me threaded to this kind of life. I'm unable to pay the price of breaking them. I pass the house of the girl and see that the lights are still on. A burst of fantasy: ring that bell. But instead I walk on and get back inside.
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