Late Autumn Sunsets

...

Jack Anderson. That's how my parents named me.

I've always had a big passion and love for reading books. The story behind every page made my childhood feel magical. When I became a teenager, I started to focus on my future. I knew I wasn't going to become a famous poet, but I hoped to have a work I could enjoy.

And here I am. I work in as a librarian since I was eighteen years old. I can't tell you I hate my job, but I sometimes daydream about those “what if ” about actually succeeding as a writer.

Whatever, I should stop thinking that much about it. Dreams are just people's wishes. Nobody gets famous without having money involved.

I think that's one of the reasons I got depressed. My broken hopes about succeeding in life made me realize how miserable I am to make it. But that's not important anymore. My therapist told me that we don't always see our true value. Or how do we impact on people's lives.

October 1st, 2007.

October. My favorite month of the year. Not because of the “Halloween vibes” but because of how beautiful autumn can be in a monday afternoon.

I was working on the library as always. I had to organize some bookshelfs since some stupid teenagers thought it would be hilarious to throw the books to the floor.

“I wasn't as stupid as kids nowadays... Was I?”

I thought. I don't think I was that stupid, but I had to admit I was a troublemaker when I was younger. Just as any kid would at that age.

- Maybe I'm just a grumpy grandpa now...       How depressing.

I muttered to myself in a low voice so nobody would be able to hear it, but I didn't expect a man responding to me while he started to help me with the books.

- You don't seem that old, you know?..

I stared at him for some seconds, I was quite ashamed by the fact that he heard that, even though I tried to be as quiet as possible.

- I'm sorry... I have such bad manners.

The man helped me get up as he handed me the last books left to organize.

- I'm Emmett Dashkov. Call me Emmett.

I left the books in the bookshelf as I shook the man's hand. I noticed how his skin was cold as ice, but who am I to judge?

- Jack Anderson. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Emmett smiled at me softly. There was something off about him. Like really off. But I still couldn't figure out what.

- The pleasure's mine, Jack.

When he started to let go from my hand, I took a moment to take in Emmett's features. He was a pale, long black haired man with some deep, reddish-brown eyes. I could swear his gaze was able to pierce my soul. He seemed skinny. Not as skinny as a skeleton, but he was still way too skinny. When I was about to keep noticing some details about him, he spoke again.

- So... Jack. I'm looking for a poetry book. I want to inspire myself to write some lyrics.

I felt myself growing more intrigued and curious about this Emmett's life. So I decided to ask about the topic.

- Oh, you're a musician?

I could see the way Emmet's eyes light up the second I bringed up the music topic. Bingo. That was his passion.

- Well, you could say that. I've been playing since I was a little thirteen year old boy. I'm a bassist, but I'm starting to experiment with this whole “writing lyrics” thing.

Emmett rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The way his lip ring shined under the dim lightning of the library was almost hypnotizing.

- And since you work here, I thought you could help me with that. I'm sure you know this library like the palm of your hand.

- Damn right I do. Let me give you what you're looking for.

I started to look around the bookshelfs as Emmett followed me. When I finally found the book, I handed it to him. “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe.

- You sure know about good poetry...

Emmett said as he looked through the pages. I was glad to help clients, but there was something in him that made me want to know more... I could point out what, but I knew I had to get to know this guy.

- I'll come back with this in a week. Until then, Jack.

- Until then, Emmet.