“I’m already here…” she read his message. She thought about how unnecessarily dangerous it was to keep texting while driving. Why don’t I have his phone number? she wonde
“…just 20 more minutes max…traffic’s decent,” she wrote back.
“No problem. I waited three years; I can handle a few more minutes,” he replied almost immediately.
“Should I order something? Anything you’d like?” He was secretly hoping she’d say she wanted him.
“I’ll leave it to you. Pick something,” she teased as she smiled at her phone.
“On it…” He liked her decisiveness.
I doubt you’ll remember what I like, but I’ll let you surprise me, she thought as she passed a short line of cars. The traffic was beginning to thicken.
“Oh no…” she muttered. “I’ll have to take another route.” Around the next bend, a much longer queue of cars appeared, and the last ones were already braking hard.
“It’s going to take a bit longer,” she texted. “I need to detour through Trenton.”
This time, she had to wait a little longer for his reply.
“Okay…I’ll keep myself busy. A colleague gave me a manuscript to read, so now’s the perfect time.”
“Fine…you’re not mad, are you?” she asked.
“Why would I be? Not everything can be planned, and we have the whole weekend ahead of us. Just get here safely,” he reassured her.
“Thanks, you’re a gem,” she wrote back, adding a small heart emoji. It was green. She’d hit the wrong one by accident.
Time flew by as he got lost in the manuscript. He glanced at his watch—an hour had passed.
Everything okay? he messaged her.
The message didn’t deliver.
Must be out of range, he thought. He set the manuscript aside and started staring at the undelivered message icon. Five minutes passed. Nothing. Then another five. Still nothing. He began to feel uneasy.
He thought about the area she might be driving through. He knew it well enough. No…there’s nowhere on that road where she’d lose signal. So why hasn’t it delivered?
Maybe her phone died after a long day. He immediately dismissed the thought. She’d raved so often about how convenient the wireless charger in her car was.
He restarted the data on his phone. When that didn’t help, he restarted the whole device. Okay, maybe the issue’s on my end, he thought, urging the phone to reboot faster.
“Come on…” he muttered. PIN, fingerprint, start Messenger… damn it, he fumbled. He restarted the app again, just to be sure.
“Boo!”
The voice startled him from behind.
“You’ve been waiting long, huh?” she said, leaning in close so he could catch the scent of her Burberry perfume. He loved that scent.
He kissed her gently. She didn’t pull away or comment. She simply sat down and raised her eyebrows playfully.
“So, did you pick something? Do you remember what I like?”
“To be honest…I have no idea what you like,” he admitted. “In fact, I wouldn’t even know where to remember it from. But I do remember when he introduced us. And I remember how I had to stop myself from staring at you.”
She smiled.
“I was thinking of a Caesar salad with salmon…and champagne. Cristal, maybe. It’s a special day, and I want to talk for hours. Not pass out stuffed with Chateaubriand.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing you talk,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“No, no—you can’t look forward to it,” he reminded her of their playful exchange from the night before. “Whenever I get excited about something, it ends up falling flat, like cheap sparkling wine.”
“We need to exchange phone numbers,” they both said simultaneously.
They burst out laughing, easing the atmosphere.
“You’re such a clown…utterly unbelievable. And inked, too,” she teased, pointing to his arm.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his fully tattooed forearm.
The older couple at the next table visibly stiffened.
They talked for hours, the last guests reluctant to leave. Their conversation spanned everything—life, interests, values. They tried to outdo each other with the craziest things they’d ever done and the wildest ideas they still wanted to try.
The waiter subtly hinted multiple times that, while he appreciated their company, he’d like to go home. Yet her smile and his generous tips kept him from pressing the matter.
At the reception, they picked up the room key.
“Married?” the receptionist asked.
“That’s none of your business,” he replied to the unnecessary question.
“Of course, my apologies. Enjoy the rest of your night,” the receptionist said, watching the entwined couple walk off.
He unlocked the door.
“Go ahead,” he said, letting her enter first.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.
A suite straight out of a movie, she thought, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Wow…this is it, he thought.
“Shall we have something to drink?” he asked, heading toward the minibar.
“I could go for some bread with lard, homemade cracklings, and onions,” she teased roguishly. “And you,” she added.
“In that order? Seriously?” he turned to her.
“I’ll leave the order up to you.”
He returned empty-handed.
She had leaned back on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. She was lying flat, her eyes closed. Her short skirt had ridden up higher than usual. He knew she was waiting.
He leaned over her, kissed her, and felt her breath quicken. He lightly grazed her neck with his teeth, moving toward her ear.
“I have an idea…come on.”
She opened her eyes, disappointed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see…we’ll go for a drive and come back after.”
“And where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet. It’s not about where, it’s about why.”
“And why are we going?”
“You’ll see. Trust me. Just as you are—no need to change. The car is warm.”
They slipped past the sleepy receptionist.
“We’ll take mine,” he said, opening the back door for her.
“You don’t want me to sit up front with you? You could…”
“We’ll talk,” he interrupted her. “Talk about making love…until it becomes unbearable, and I have to stop. Anywhere.”
The Three Fates—at least that’s what they claimed to be—bent over his cradle. The first smiled kindly and said, “I grant you the ability to recognize and appreciate beauty. But you will never be able to create it yourself. This will not be an easy life.” The second spoke next: “You will always be surrounded by people… most of whom will be indifferent to you.” The third leaned closer, her voice laced with cruelty: “Welcome to hell.”
He never forgot their words. He knew all three of them from his past lives. The original Fates who were supposed to attend his birth hadn’t made it in time. That wasn’t common. Strange.
“Why do you think I don’t know?” he said. “Your eyes, they’re brown. Brown like chocolate, and just as addictive for me.” But it wasn’t really an answer. She hadn’t asked anything. He was just prepared to respond if she ever did. He had all the answers ready for her, though it was unnecessary. Every time she was near, instead of deep, meaningful thoughts, all he could do was spew nonsense. Like a schoolboy caught smoking in the bathroom, he felt awkward and embarrassed, yet unable to do anything about it. He wanted to be close to her, to make things easier for her, because he believed she needed that.
Only much later did he realize how much he overestimated his ability to help. She was far stronger and more resilient than he’d assumed. Probably like most women. But by the time this dawned on him, he’d already ruined everything. Or perhaps not. It wasn’t as if he’d had the power to ruin anything. He wasn’t that high on the food chain of her life. They simply had different lives, different suns, and different dreams. He’d fallen in love without having any idea what to do with that gift. He had nothing to offer, only pieces of himself to lose—little by little, or all at once.
He rarely took vacations, so he was absolutely sure of the day she started working at the company. “Did you see her?” he wanted to shout. He needed someone to witness that he hadn’t lost his mind. She was real, not just some electrical misfire in his brain. “Girl, you’re going to have a hard time here. Good luck, pretty.”
And then the realization struck: “Oh no, she’s with… shit. Some people are just born lucky. Makes sense now.” He’d seen her walk by many times after that. What puzzled him was that she never seemed to look around or notice anyone else. Or maybe it happened so quickly he missed it. It was as if someone had forbidden her from interacting with others. But he got it. He’d be jealous too.
“You guys ever tried walking in heels?” he mused to himself. “I don’t mean just making it safely from point A to point B. I mean walking in a way that makes everyone else lose their balance.”
He was one of those who lost his balance. He’d freeze in place every time she passed by, just to avoid accidentally crashing into a wall. Damn you, Fate!
At work, he kept to himself, so there was no one to talk to about it. He almost wanted to tell his wife how beautiful the new girl at work was, but he wisely reconsidered. That conversation wouldn’t have gone over well at home.
“If she ever needs anything, she can come to me,” he told himself. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m here to serve, to help others.” That’s all he’d ever done, whether he wanted to or not. The result was always the same.
Once, in his life, he’d become someone’s plaything. That wasn’t great. What if she was just a plaything too? A toy for someone who didn’t cherish their toys? Could you really form a bond with one toy when you had so many? Probably not. Definitely not. When a toy breaks or becomes boring, you just move on to another. That was a world he despised. He assumed she felt the same way. A wave of solidarity washed over him. “I’ll help her open other people’s eyes. I promise.”
Yes, he forgot to check if anyone actually wanted his help. But why would he? For gratitude? Isn’t it better to help without expecting anything in return? Of course it is. From the moment he learned they’d be collaborating occasionally, he tried to make things easier for her. Wow. He hadn’t even lifted a finger yet, and she was already standing just a step away.
She was even more natural and beautiful up close than he’d imagined. No enigmatic sphinx—she could laugh, and she enjoyed a good joke. Or so it seemed. God, she’s so lovely. He nearly melted, like a snowman under a summer sun. For a moment, he forgot about the Fates who had welcomed him into the world. Not for long, though. By the afternoon, he was certain she wouldn’t even remember his name the next day. It was always like that. King of the Naïve.
But they did meet again the next day. When was the last time he’d had a proper conversation with anyone? Until now, he’d essentially paid people to listen to him. He’d never told anyone as much as he told her. If she’d been an investigator for a case from his wild days in the ‘90s, he’d have confessed to everything in under two minutes. He lost his equilibrium. For a Libra, that was a particularly significant malfunction.
“Houston, we have a problem,” he thought to himself on the way home.
“She’s so addictively compelling. I have to be more careful. People at home are starting to look at me funny. Is it really that obvious? Or have I just been reacting differently to the same old stimuli?” He spoke aloud to himself.
“I hope I’m not talking in my sleep,” he suddenly worried. “Breathe in, breathe out, calm down. It’s nothing. You’ve done nothing wrong. Maybe just stop walking around with that stupid grin plastered across your face. You’ve read about this somewhere, haven’t you?”
“I don’t want to fight this,” he admitted. He liked the feeling. Yes, that was it. It was just a pleasant feeling, and he didn’t want it to end.
“I need to talk to her. I’ll just be open with her and… damn it, what exactly am I going to say? Focus, man.”
That I’ve fallen in love? Am I in love, or what is this even supposed to be?
Despite his thoughts scattering in every direction, they all pointed to one place—her. Whatever he thought about always led back to her.
Where? With her. When? Whenever she says. How? However she wants. What? What does she think? Why? Because of her.
Have you even slept? You idiot, you even forgot to eat. But that’s fine. This kind of weight loss is automatic. Once, you tried that protein diet, and it worked. I’ll just buy a tub of chocolate-flavored protein powder and be set. Didn’t she joke about not talking to me if I become a skeleton? That must’ve been a joke, right?
Is there anything I couldn’t do right now? Need someone to reverse the Earth’s rotation? Not a problem.
“Do you have time to stop by? I need something,” he texted her. She said yes. “You know, I got this idea. I’d like to buy you something.”
“Don’t you dare,” she warned him.
He grabbed her wrist gently and smiled. She didn’t smile back. In every movie and every book, when a woman said no, she meant yes. It never even occurred to him that she might have meant exactly what she said. He was simply happy at the thought of making her happy.
Too bad the weekend was starting. Two days without seeing her. The weekend flew by, as weekends tend to.
I hope I catch her before she leaves, he thought. There she was, walking. I can still wish her a good weekend. Ouch. She saw me coming and deliberately turned to face the other way. …Why? What did I do?
The weekend blurred past him.
Finally, Monday. Finally, back at work. He had to see her. “Hi, Nomy,” he greeted her, relieved.
“Hi,” she whispered and walked away quickly. His world exploded. It was his personal Big Bang. Several of them, actually. He couldn’t understand. The bees vanished, the batteries died, the sun went out. Darkness. Don’t forget to breathe.
“You were working. I didn’t want to disturb you, you know,” she texted him later.
Not buying it. You know you can’t disturb me. Something happened. I must’ve said something wrong, or she found something out about me. But what? I told her everything there was to tell.
Men don’t cry, remember? I don’t care what men are supposed to do or not do. Can I, just for once, do something I want? I have to ask her, explain to her… what was it the third Fate said? That I’d think about her every second of the day? No, she didn’t say that.
“I think about you every third and fourth second of the day,” he texted her. Liar. He thought about her constantly. Always. First, second, third, fourth… first, second…
Oh God, what did I just text her? Now I look like a complete idiot. Way to go. Another stupid thing to add to the pile. Always proofread before hitting send. …Unless she deletes my messages immediately.
I can’t text her anymore. I know I can’t. There are so many things I shouldn’t do. The list of things I’m allowed is so much shorter. Calm down… breathe deeply. Think about happy things. But I am thinking about happy things. I haven’t felt this happy in ages.
Where are you, Fates? Hiding? You should really be separated. You’re not allowed to hang out together. Neither are we. No one is. Everyone against everyone. I’m seriously losing it.
You love your music. It’s always helped you. You live in a different world. Hey, little soldier, you’ll live with me forever. You’ll stay on my left forearm. My right one will get something too—a greeting to the world and all my friends.
Remember… once, you wished everyone would forget about you. It was so much easier back then. You didn’t want to trouble anyone… how long ago was that? Twenty years? You were alone then. You missed your chance to set yourself free.
She must’ve been born around that time.
Wow, I really am old. There’s nothing between us… just those twenty years… forgive me. Old people are blind and deaf. And I deserve this. Look at you, how out of your depth you are. Surprised? How do I make it so I can be with her? Here we go again. How long does this take to pass?
But I don’t want it to pass. The real question is, how do I avoid being a burden to her presence? That’s not the answer either. Was that disaster at home in February or January?
But I don’t want it to pass. The real question is, how do I avoid being a burden to her presence? That’s not the answer either. Was that disaster at home in February or January? I never kept secrets at home, never even thought of hiding bank statements.
“Did you buy jewelry for some woman?” my wife asked. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, like this would never happen to you all. You’re all so loyal, flawless, and perfect. Drink the cup of bitterness to the last drop. I’m a despicable bastard. How long did I end up living in my car?
If I could, I’d hug her. Stroke her hair. Cheer her up. But wouldn’t anyone want that? She isn’t for you, my friend. You can’t have everything. Even if you stood on your head. Repeat it to yourself. Constantly. Don’t forget it.
Can you eat now? Try it. Doesn’t taste good? Taste is just a wrapper. Eat, even if you don’t feel like it. You’re a chemist. You know how the human body works. If sadness can be created chemically, surely happiness can too. Dopamine. The quickest route is through drugs. No, I definitely don’t need everything. So, where can we find dopamine in nature? Think. You love plants. Of course! Bananas!
Just eat three kilos of bananas daily, and you’ll be as good as new in a month. She even smiled at you again, didn’t she? Of course, you noticed. Just hang in there. Don’t bother her. Be nice and don’t bother her. Damn it, yesterday was Women’s Day, and I didn’t wish her anything. Now she’ll think I’m rude. Or worse, that I forgot about her. Or worst of all, that I’ve finally forgotten her. But no. I think of nothing else; that’s why I can’t even remember the date.
I know this has dragged on for far too long. I’m acting like a stalker. And even my attempt at that is pathetic.
March. My first surgery as a patient. I’m nervous because they’re going to put me under, and I’ll be completely out of control. As if I’m in control now. If only it were something more serious. Maybe they’d accidentally perform a lobotomy. They didn’t. Too bad. Maybe then I’d fit in.
“We’ll arrange transport to take you home,” they offered for my good behavior.
“Thanks, but I have my car here,” I said, trying to pose.
“Are you sure you’ll manage to drive?” they raised their eyebrows.
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I need the practice. Got to be ready for work,” I replied. If only they knew why, they’d have walked the 180 kilometers every day.
They gave me a list of things I couldn’t do for three months. Okay. Added Nomy to that list myself. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
Ah, now I see why they didn’t want me driving. I can’t even get out of the car.
What exactly was on the list again? No sex, even when I got home. Exercise with extreme caution. Everything hurts. Nomy? I’ll just send her a joke. Later.
April. Still here. Walking like an invalid. Needs more training. Train everything. I’m holding on. I’ll just send her an occasional joke. Does it even sound like a joke? And May is coming. In May, she has her name day. I’ll just wish her a happy name day. I’ll think of something original. Can’t I just wish her something simple for once? Leave it as you wrote it. Don’t try to improve it. Look, you managed. You don’t need to write anything else.
“Can you come to quality control, please?” she called in June.
Don’t break your legs running over there!
But no… I opened the door and saw a little spread laid out. It hit me—it was her birthday. Nomy, what are you doing to me? I was finally behaving and staying out of trouble. Now you’re dangerously close again. So fragrant. This wasn’t supposed to happen. To the day, it’s been three months since everything was forbidden. I can’t understand it. I’m like a moth drawn to the flame. How do I explain all this to you? How much I’m fighting it. How much shame I feel. It’s too much for me, and too much is too much.
I could write a book about it.
Yes, that’s it—I’ll try to explain everything to you in a book. Maybe then you’ll understand me. I need to apologize. I’ll try through a book, or at least a story. I once wrote a book about how I don’t know how to live. It’s going to be a bit of hell to go through this again, but I really want you to know how things are. That from different angles, it always looks just a little bit different. Just a little.
She had been afraid to meet him back then—not because he was intimidating or dangerous, but because she knew that seeing him would inevitably lead to another flood of texts: „How are you feeling today?“ „Why the sad eyes?“ „Why this? Why that? Why?“ It was an endless loop. Avoiding him entirely was simply easier. The most effective way was to ignore his relentless attempts to start a conversation.
She had realized quickly that he was in love. Like everyone else. Nothing unusual. She knew she was beautiful; it wasn’t new to her. People brought it up constantly, and he was no exception. In this way, he was just like the others. But otherwise? He was—later, she’d use the word that seemed to define him perfectly—peculiar.
He was overweight, quick-witted, always had an answer to everything. He was the oldest among them and often joked that he was over a million years old—“judging by the wear and tear.“ His life stories sounded almost unbelievable. Even if half of them were true, he’d still be a strange one.
They say if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it must be a duck. But this one? This was a duck from a factory farm. A peculiar duck. More precisely, a peculiar drake. God only knew why he said the things he did. Then again, what God knows, she often felt she knew too. He was just another guy trying to win her over with fairy tales, hoping for another notch on his belt. Even though he claimed otherwise.
She wasn’t buying it. She had seen plenty of guys like him before and had never been wrong about them. Life had taught her to be constantly on guard, never letting her guard down, never risking another heartbreak. Especially not with someone like him. Married, a storyteller, and, on top of it all, supposedly a musician. Emotional burns like that took forever to heal, and with him? Thank you, no. It would’ve been absurd.
When did it even begin? Where else… it’s obvious. There. She’d heard about him from a colleague who sent her to him with some question. Apparently, he wasn’t as arrogant as some of the others, which is why people preferred to ask him for advice. Well, fine. She’d have to meet another person. But she wasn’t in the mood for introductions. Not here, not now. She had her reasons. People were treacherous, and there were always plenty of reasons to stay away from them. Not closer than necessary. Ugh.
He was standing by some green contraption, observing something. „Good day! What can I do for you? I’m…“ That was the first sentence she’d ever heard from him. Right away, this chubby older guy casually offered her to switch to first names. It was funny. For a moment, he seemed almost unnaturally cheerful. But only for a moment. A day, two, maybe just a few hours? He downplayed everything, and nothing was ever a problem. A sarcastic clown. After all the trouble she had endured in this hostile environment, he seemed almost like a mirage. Like something made up. This man was actually smiling here, trying not to burden himself with any problems. Life seemed to speed up a little.
She didn’t even know why she had given him her phone number that time. At that moment, she couldn’t find a reason not to. If she had known she was dusting off the magic lamp of Aladdin, she’d never have done it.
„I can’t take my eyes off you,“ read the text message. She looked around to see where he was watching her from. He stood not far off, blending in with something. That’s why she hadn’t noticed him immediately. She smiled and waved. Politeness is politeness. „Thank you,“ she texted back. His reply came faster than you could say „shoemaker,“ maybe even faster than the thought of the word itself. Then another, and another message. Answers to questions she hadn’t even asked. Boy, he was quick. Judging by the number of messages, it seemed like this guy had nothing else to do.
Sometimes she had no idea what he was even talking about. But as if he realized that what he’d written didn’t make sense, another clarifying message would arrive right after. Some were impossible not to laugh at. Honestly laugh. He could poke fun at almost anything, especially himself. After everything she had been through here, it wasn’t unpleasant to exchange a few words with him. One day, they talked for almost eight hours straight. When was the last time she had a conversation like that with anyone?
What’s more, he actually seemed to listen when she talked. She needed someone to talk to—about anything. She wanted at least one person in this company to know who she really was. It surprised her when he seemed to be doing the same thing. Honestly.
Hold on. Slow down, buddy. Let’s pump the brakes. This isn’t going where you think it is.
Where did all the fun go? You’ve turned into an autumn sun, barely shining and definitely not warm.
Every woman knows what’s happening when a man starts doing these things. Sure, go on a diet, you fool.
„If you get too skinny, I’m not talking to you anymore,“ she warned him cautiously. She wasn’t some naive little girl who could be easily manipulated. And say what you want, but stop texting me so much. I can’t even keep up with reading it, let alone replying. I don’t know how to tell you this.
She noticed that he was changing. She probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so persistent in demanding her attention. She felt something was brewing, that something was going to happen. It was weird. When she passed him in the mornings, she had to turn her head away. The peculiar drake had turned into a strange man.
„Are we just going to keep avoiding each other?“ he texted right after.
„You were working; I didn’t want to interrupt, you know,“ she lied. A merciful lie. You clearly wouldn’t handle the truth. I know you by now.
Get back to your pond, drake. And no, I can’t accept your gifts. Please understand. Please. I didn’t think you were this dense. What are you doing now? Don’t give me that „It’s just a Christmas gift“ nonsense. Seriously? Do I look like I was born yesterday? You’re all the same, thinking you can buy everything. And musicians? They’re the worst of the bunch.
With the same stubbornness with which he began pestering her, she started avoiding him. Except now he wasn’t texting her personal phone anymore. She didn’t bother to figure out why. He was writing utter nonsense. Nonsense squared. Depression? What are you even talking about? You’re crazy, seriously. I’m glad the holidays are here. At least you won’t be texting during Christmas, will you? That phone call of yours was more than enough. Snap out of it, man. Cry it out if it helps.
During the Christmas holidays, he messaged her with polite greetings. She cautiously responded in the same tone, worried that he’d immediately start texting her again. But nothing. Complete silence. Phew. Peaceful, quiet holidays. There should be more of these.
After the break, there was a brief, almost stifling silence. Good morning, hi, take care… nothing more. A few times she saw him near some test station, but he stood apart, as if keeping his distance—from everyone. Pretty decent of him. He wasn’t even shaving anymore. No texts, no visibility. Maybe he was sulking.
She found out that he had tattooed both of his arms with some inscriptions. She just hoped her name or anything resembling it wasn’t among them. She’d break both his arms if it was. She assumed she knew why he’d done it. What a fool. Full sleeves. Both arms. She just wanted to know what was written there.
She called him, like a teacher summoning a delinquent to the office. He showed up almost immediately.
„It’s just song lyrics that have followed me through life. I like them,“ he explained. Oh, the drama.
„Okay, I just wanted to see them. You’re crazy,“ she replied.
„Is this supposed to be your last will and testament? You’ve got time for that, don’t you?“ she later messaged him.
„No, it’s just everything I won’t have time to say. It would be a shame to leave it unsaid,“ he replied almost instantly.
Inwardly, she had to admit that the text he’d let her read was actually quite good. Bravo. So now you’re tattooed. And you’ve lost weight. It shows. He was a completely different man from the one she’d met two months ago. Like some battle-hardened soldier from Afghanistan. Wait a second… has it really only been two months? she asked herself. If his autumn sun used to give no warmth, now it downright froze. Was this even the same guy? He was more than strange now. Just as long as it didn’t get worse. She thought she had him figured out, but she wasn’t sure if he was dangerous or not. All the saints and good riddance to evil. How many transformations was this? Alien. For a brief moment, she even wondered if that might actually be true.
Then she ran into him randomly during some test. He smiled at her, faintly resembling the cheerful father-figure from November. He looked like a crushed rake but didn’t bring up anything from the past. He seemed resigned, at peace. Until, that afternoon, she received a barrage of cryptic texts again.
„Some things, my dear, you should just keep to yourself. I know you trust me, but the story of how you met your wife? Keep that to yourself. You keep aiming for the same target, and I’m not buying it.“ She sent it, and then crap, she realized she must’ve touched a nerve. So, the word liar gets under your skin, huh?
And then he scared her.
„Please, stop me. Just say stop. Please,“ she read later that evening at home on her phone screen. She looked out the window. Nothing. No one. What did that mean? His final message read: „Thanks, you don’t need to. It’s simple. Take care.“ What had that idiot done now?
It was Friday, so she wouldn’t find out until next week.
The following week, she saw him a few times at work. Still not talking to anyone. Or maybe he was, but she wasn’t on that list. He answered technical questions when asked but didn’t initiate any friendly conversations. She didn’t mind. This was how it should be. She could focus on her work.
She needed to get into the flow. The job itself wasn’t particularly challenging. Routine. But how to bring order to this chaos? Everyone had big talk about functional systems, but nothing ever got done. It was just money, Inc. Weird place, weird people. Goodness is scarce here. February was nasty enough on its own without corporate meddling.
She mostly kept her distance from her office colleagues, who were always chattering about family and partners. Days and weeks alternated like the last snowflakes of winter and the first drops of spring rain. She looked forward to the woods. She loved the woods. But she’d have to wait a little longer.
He messaged her a belated International Women’s Day greeting. It was comical. The guy who had recently been trying to act like a poker-faced professional was attempting to break the silence. No, you’re not funny anymore… just laughable. Still, she thanked him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, really. Just been insufferably annoying when she’d let him.
She thanked him, though, with a slight sense of unease. Like when you wait for a child’s balloon to pop. She knew what always followed after any hint of personal communication.
But this time, nothing. Silence. The balloon didn’t pop; it just drifted away. Where do those balloons go when they escape late-closing children’s hands? Somewhere far. And just like that, he wasn’t there anymore. A week, two, three passed. Maybe he’d disappeared. He had told her he’d vanish if he could, just for her. Odd.
By the end of the fourth week, she saw him again at work through the office window. He was hunched over, walking unusually slowly. He never moved quickly, but he was never without energy. Another pose? Maybe she’d been too harsh on him. Actually, he’d never done anything bad to her. Maybe she’d just panicked.
She started seeing him more frequently again, but he still remained quiet. He only responded when spoken to—never initiating conversations. Well, you used to be more fun, mister. When she called him for advice, she felt a twinge of nervousness. And, as if on cue, he answered her questions politely, formally, without adding anything unnecessary. Thank you, goodbye, great. That sounded like anyone else—but not him.
Maybe he’s finally grown out of it, she thought. Maybe this is what “normal” looks like for him. Had she ever really seen him acting „normal“ before? She’d seen him be odd, but never this. Spring marched on; April gave way to May. And May always brought a little joy with it. Her phone buzzed on the desk. A new message:
„Happy name day to you.“
She smiled. It was a kind gesture, unexpected. Alright, you’re not laughable; you’re just… peculiar, she thought to herself. You’re so delightfully scatterbrained when you talk to me. When we speak, your eyes look at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but directly at me. Looking at me doesn’t come naturally to you, does it?
„Every time I look into your eyes for too long, I find myself drowning in them all over again,“ he texted her.
She smiled again, despite herself. Are we really going to start this all over?
I don’t know how to say this without hurting you, but maybe you’ll understand, she thought to herself. I don’t know how to describe you. Maybe you’re like a meal I’ve never had before. The first bite is… peculiar. A combination of flavors that don’t overpower each other, yet each is entirely unique. But there are too many of them. It’s overwhelming. A meal shouldn’t be this complicated. And it’s far too filling.
She paused.
„It’s not bad, honestly, but it’s not something I would ever choose for myself. Not even if it were the last meal on earth.“
