Darling, Clementine

6| Dangerously irresistible

The night was filled with a mesmerizing display of twinkling stars, casting their ethereal glow upon the world. It was a late hour, 8:30, and I was alone in the café, surrounded by an atmosphere of solitude. My usual bustling coworkers had abandoned their responsibilities to indulge in festivities (partying in a germ-crowded club like theirs no tomorrow), leaving me to navigate the quietude that enveloped the space.

In this moment of seclusion, my mind became a canvas for whispered thoughts, and loyal companions that guided me through the chaos. They were the gentle murmurs of my heart, reassuring me of my existence on this vast earth. Within the recesses of my consciousness, these whispers echoed, reminding me that my father's passing was not the sole reason for my impending breakdown. They were the whispers of my lungs, teaching me the art of breathing when the weight of existence threatened to suffocate me. Perhaps I was a troubled soul, plagued by my own set of enigmatic dilemmas. But don't we all have clouded problems to storm in our hazy and fucked up minds?

Grant and Mary, the café's proprietors, remained secluded behind the imposing doors of Grant's offices. Not that I minded their absence. The silence of the cafe was therapy for my broken mind, adding to its booming population of emotions that swirled like a tornado in my restless mind. Silence and aloneness were the only friends that seem to keep me company when I need company the most. The silence was a chiming bell, singing its tones of tranquility as it echoed in the café. After meticulously wiping down the tables and mopping the floor with a half-decaying handle, I began the arduous task of removing chairs resting on top of the tables. Each chair found its rightful place under their tables, and I meticulously organized the bottles of salt, pepper, sugar packs, and other condiments back to their designated spots on the tables. Satisfied with the orderly arrangement, I made my way to the kitchen, ensuring all was prepared for the following day. As I concluded my inspection, a sudden thud reverberated through the front of the café, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned to looked out of the window which allowed the stars to faintly glisten into the kitchen. It was a leaf, protesting against the window as the wind swiped it away, with the following crowds of leaves along the street.

The wind outside sang teasingly and tauntingly against the windows. It howled with an unrestrained vigor, dancing along the deserted streets and rustling the remaining leaves in its wake. A single street light shuns brightly adding warmth and safety from the darkness forming a circle around it. The wind whispered, shouted, danced, and sang its darling story of freedom. It's a powerful tale of independence. Until it stopped. The streets were empty, without a single dancing left in sight. The clouds moved blocking the twinkling stars as if the clouds were stuck in traffic, unmoving. The moon ascended making the sky a deep dark shade of blue, colorless.

A silence fell upon the café. Nothing stirred outside. The stillness of the night stifled the very act of breathing. The echo of tranquility moved through the building like a haunting ghost. Time seemed to halt, the world poised, anticipating my unraveling, my breaking point. It beckoned me, enticing me to take that final step, relinquishing the warmth within my heart, as I sprinted toward the encroaching darkness. The silence was quiet yet deafeningly loud. It was like a drumming never stopping to rest or breathe, an ocean of waves never ceasing their movements, a storm that never ceased its torment. The silence was a cure to my depression, but a newly unlocked corruption to my being. A corruption that sucked the happiness out of my being like a vampire deprived of blood.

Bang.

The sound moved around the room like waves. A sound so simple yet so deadly. It echoed like the final chime of an ancient clock striking midnight, resounding with an air of finality. And with that resounding bang, the world sprang back to life. The wind resumed its fierce protest against the windows, and the leaves resumed their frenzied dance along the street. It was a whirlwind of angry nature and a tsunami of silence.