If you see her, say hello

He yawned and got to the kitchen to get some coffee. Everyone still slept in the house, just as usual. The dishes were still there, dirty knives and forks here and there as if some tiny world war had been going on without his knowing. He grabbed a cup, poured himself some coffee and threw it all in the microwave. Bad habits. But his life was all about those. He yawned again and this time his jaw made an awfully frightening noise. He was getting old. There was no sense in denying it. That’s when it took him – the anxiety. The thought. Nothing came to him in a monstruous wave and hit him right away. Nothing. He had achieved nothing he had planned, had lived half the life he’d dreamed, had said half the things he’d felt. Jeffrey took the cup to the living room and almost dived into the sofa. He heard a noise coming from the door and immediately thought the cat had found out a spider. It usually plays with them, drags them everywhere, and inadvertently kills them while doing so. Jeffrey often joked life did the same to you. But the cat had nothing to do with the noise. A piece of paper had been slided under the door and Jeffrey stared at it, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dear Linda,
I’m a moron. I know, no new news at the new court. But I think it needs to be said, written, put out there. This way, the universe knows that I’ve aknowledged it. Maybe someday I’ll get some reward for that. Maybe not.
I have no idea how this all started. In all fairness, it’s fair to say none of us asked for anything. Especially you. I usually mind my own business and look down at my feet while walking. Like clumsy waves they eventually always break down on the floors, curbs, pavements. Everything really. Sometimes too they get in deep shit. It happens. Fuck, cross this last line out, will you?
One instant you were there, somebody with nice hair, catchy eyes and a nice scent. A moment after you’d become something else. An idea. An ideal even. You stood there and I stood next to you, pretending to watch the horizon while the only thing I was focused on was the inner picture of you and I somewhere, riding horses, drinking tea or Lord knows what else. We laughed for no reason and for a slight moment we came face to face. I saw you for the first time and you saw through me. You read me. You scanned me. You got me naked. Not in the literal sense mind you, but you already know that. It’s likely I would have been arrested, which in a way, would have made this day more remarkable to you.
I really wish it was. I’m not sure it has been. Perhaps I’m mistaken. But that’s the way I feel. I feel you’ve been bearing me in your heart for a whole bunch of wrong reasons. And please do not say that to anyone – but the real and hidden purpose of this here letter is to redeem my (small but nonetheless existing) good side.
There are words that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I’ve been desperately trying to pin them down and give them away to you. That’s another reason why I’m ripping my soul just trying to get a few sentences down this tiny piece of paper. As if offering up something scribbled, untangible concepts really, to someone, miles away, busy dancing and living, would change anything. I’m a hopeless romantic that way. And it hurts a lot. But to each their burden.
I may not be around much right now, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I’m like a ghost that way. I’m here and yet not. I’m living on a different plan. Inside is outside, down is up and up is down. That’s what’s happening really, I make no sense. I’m a walking contradiction. Part of me thinks I should be living in Tangier, I’ll probably leave this early Spring. You get where I’m going with this? I don’t want to say that I’m alright, that things are getting kind of slow. You might think that I’ve forgotten you. But let me tell you, it isn’t so.
Someone’s at the door know. The knocking intensifies just as I think I should let everything go. The wolves have found me, and I do not care. Somehow I feel I’ve said my piece, and if I ever get to send you this letter, that means I’m not completely dead and buried – so good for me. Don’t wait up. I’m probably right beside you already.

Jeffrey had delivered the letter to the address, like the note said. He had no clue as to who had written it, it simply bore the mention No Name. It was odd enough that it had been firstly delivered to him with the instructions of, in turn, delivering it to somebody else. For a moment, Jeffrey thought about keeping it, about showing it. But Diane told him someone somewhere counted on him. Even if the reason still remained unclear, even if the purpose felt a little bit weird, that’s a mission you gotta do, she’d said. And Jeffrey knew she was right. Something had felt awfully logical with the entire situation. He himself had been trying to say things to his loved one, but never could really. Maybe the universe did him a favor – and Diane looked radiant.

There was no knock on the door. He had came in and left like a ghost, he could have robbed the entire building for all he cared. His movement were accompanied by the swift and soft rustling of the paper carefully folded and placed in his back pocket. Jeffrey wasn’t afraid of losing it – if the universe really wanted him to deliver it, he’d deliver it. And if not, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. He stood in front of door 11 and took a second to himself. He did not read the letter again, he felt he never should have in the first place either, but there was no enveloppe and he thought it had been sent to him. He had read it in two or three minutes, but he felt he knew it by heart. There was no sense and no logic to it, only feelings. Something raw, unsaid, but deeply felt. He knew that.

As he stood there, waiting, he began to imagine her face. She was beautiful, that was a fact. Her face had something other faces did not. Her eyes, those eyes. He didn’t know about the colour. But he knew they were to die for. That’s something he picked out from the letter. And there was the rest. How she walk towards the door, pick up the letter and read it. She might shed a tear or two, she might get mad at him for a reason or two. She’d know. Right away she’d know it was him. That made absolutely no doubt. Jeffrey hoped she’d see he meant every word, even those he had trouble thinking, coining, phrasing. He was just a messenger and yet he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world. They always shoot the messenger


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