Right one at the wrong time

After the walk

Konstrakta’s footsteps echoed softly as she made her way back to her room, the events from earlier replaying in her mind like a haunting melody. The walk with Cornelia had been refreshing yet introspective, and as she tried to drag her tired feet across the floor to her room, she had become entangled in a web of thoughts and feelings that she couldn’t and didn’t want to understand. It was already late, way too late for that. Immediately after the walk, they had rehearsed a few more times until they had all reached a point where they realised it would be better to stop now. Konstrakta had been incredibly grateful for the distraction and work, because it meant she had an excuse and also no time to think about the stroll through the park again. But she still knew she would have to at some point. But now she was just tired and exhausted and didn’t really want to think about anything at all anymore.

As she finally entered her room, the familiar surroundings felt strangely distant, as if she was seeing them through a veil. And yet the utter silence of it, a stark contrast to the day’s chaos, was a relief. She didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting a gentle glow through the window, painting the room in shades of silver and shadow.

Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Konstrakta collapsed onto her bed. Still dressed in the day’s clothes she lay there, the fabric wrinkling beneath her weight. She was about to close her eyes as she heard a knock on her door.

With an annoyed groan, she tried to pull herself up from the bed and see who wanted something from her so late. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? With dishevelled hair and heavy eyelids, she shuffled to the door. Too tired to ask who was there, she simply opened it. Her eyes widened and her whole body flinched slightly when she saw who was standing in front of it. Suddenly she was wide awake.

“Cornelia?”

But the blonde woman just smiled and said nothing. Konstrakta was incredibly confused, about to ask some questions as Cornelia turned around and started to leave again. But while she did so, she made a gesture with her hand to show the other woman that she should follow her. Despite Konstrakta’s confusion, she went after her. Without exchanging a single word and without asking where Cornelia was going and what she wanted from her so late, they had suddenly arrived in the great hall of the Eurovision Song Contest. The halls were empty, and the silence was profound. They seemed to wander aimlessly until Cornelia stopped in front of the stage, their figures bathed in a solitary shaft of light coming from above. Someone must have forgotten to switch it off. Suddenly Cornelia laughed so loud it echoed, a sound both comforting and unsettling.

For the first time since the Swede had stood outside her door, their eyes met. All of a sudden there was a recognition, a silent understanding that seemed to transcend words. Konstrakta felt an inexplicable pull towards her, a connection that defied logic. But before she could think about it, they continued to walk side by side through the labyrinth of corridors, their steps in sync.

As they walked, their hands brushed against each other. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt through Konstrakta, stirring emotions she couldn’t quite name. She glanced at Cornelia, trying to read her expression, but Cornelia just smiled, that enigmatic, captivating smile.

The silence between them comfortable yet charged with a kind of tension. But why didn’t they say anything? Konstrakta had the feeling that something inside her was holding her back from saying anything for some reason.

Suddenly, Cornelia reached out and took Konstrakta’s hand without any comment. The touch was gentle, tentative, but it felt like a bolt of electricity. Konstrakta’s heart raced, and a mix of fear and something else surged within her. She couldn’t understand why it felt so significant. Inside of her was a mix of emotions she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—acknowledge. She wanted to pull away, to break the connection, but she found herself unable to move.

Then, all of a sudden Cornelia’s figure began to fade. How could that be? What was happening here? Was she so tired that she could no longer see clearly? She hadn’t been drinking or taking anything. Konstrakta reached out in a reflex, but grasped nothing but air. A sense of even more confusion and disorienting, enveloped her.

She jerked up abruptly, her heart pounding. She was on her bed, still in her clothes from before. She must have fallen asleep. It was the middle of the night, and her room was shrouded in darkness. It had all just been a dream. And for a fraction of a millisecond, she was almost overcome by a feeling of disappointment. It had felt so real, so intense. The emotions it stirred were confusing and overwhelming.

Konstrakta sat up, disoriented, her mind racing. The dream had shaken her and left her with far too many questions that she didn’t want to ask. She had always been sure of herself, of her emotions, her deep dislike towards that woman. But now she felt adrift, almost unsure. Was there almost a tiny certain sympathy towards Cornelia, triggered by their walk together? Or was Konstrakta just so tired and confused from the past few days and everything? Yes, that would be it.

After she was able to collect herself, the feeling of being annoyed by such a dream finally returned. She was relieved. Now she was not only constantly harassed by this woman every day, but now even at night. At a time when she was supposed to finally have some peace and quiet. Irritated, Konstrakta tried to dismiss the dream. She refused to engage with the feelings it had unearthed, finding them ridiculous and irrelevant. It was just a dream, nothing more. She was determined to minimize it, unwilling to even think about what it might or could mean about her own emotions. But what was it supposed to mean anyway? Nothing. She didn’t actually believe in anything like that anyway. Some dreams were simply random and strange and had no meaning or deeper significance.

And yet despite her efforts, the dream lingered in her thoughts, like the memory of their walk. The experience had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Konstrakta’s frustration grew as she realised that the dream wouldn’t just fade away into the recesses of her mind. It clung to her, a persistent reminder of something she had no interest in confronting. Not now, in the middle of the night, and not at any other time. She would simply have to make more of an effort to avoid the Swede. Without her, the whole ESC experience she had been looking forward to so much, would be much more enjoyable.

She lay back down, staring into the darkness. She was still incredibly exhausted and knew she needed the sleep. But something inside her refused. Out of fear... No, out of annoyance that the dream would continue as soon as she fell asleep again. So she tried hard to focus on the upcoming event, the music, anything but the dream.