For you, I'd stand still

Five O'Clock

Zurich's evening light fades, blurring the edges of its tidy streets and stone facades. It is almost five, but the sky has already dipped into a blue-grey twilight. I walk down the cobblestone paths with no real destination, each step echoing faintly in the narrow alleyways, while the early November air grows sharper, stinging my skin beneath the new coat. I try to lose myself in the patterns of the city - its slate rooftops and ivy-covered stone, its quiet pulse and quiet corners - anything to escape the weight of my thoughts. Anything to bring calm to my senses.

The streets are nearly empty, a few pedestrians hurrying past, but I feel their presence without turning to look. They move purposefully, tucked into scarves and coats, hands clutching bags and briefcases. Rooted. Anchored. The sight stirs something like envy in me, a strange longing to feel tethered, to belong even in passing.

But even the sight of others has become distant to me, and there's a numbness that seems to grip my heart, like frost settling over the leaves before they fall. It's always this way. I let myself forget the cities I move through, let myself forget faces, people, names. Only, some things slip through the cracks - moments, small reminders that lodge themselves somewhere deep within, and I don't know why I hold onto them. Mateo's drawing weighs heavily in my pocket. I could throw it away, drop it into the lake or leave it on a bench for a stranger to find. But I haven't. Why? I don't know. Actually, I do. I am simply not willing to accept the reason.

The city's narrow streets converge, leading me, as though by design, toward a small square nestled between buildings. The space is empty except for a single clock tower that looms over it, its face gilded and ornate, hands ticking as though marking a time meant only for me. I stop at the edge of the square, staring up at the clock as it draws closer to five. The hand shifts almost imperceptibly, ticking forward in precise, unyielding intervals, marking a kind of passing I can feel in my bones. I can't stop staring at it.

It isn't the first time I've felt this - this strange sense of dread, the tugging feeling I can't ignore. There's a tightness in my chest, a sense that time is closing in, winding itself tighter around me. I glance around, expecting, almost hoping, to see a familiar face. But the square remains empty, the only sound the distant echo of bells marking the hour. I've been alone my entire life, but I don't think I've ever felt this lonely.

Just as the bells fade, I feel a hand on my shoulder, light, as if to keep me from slipping away. I don't need to turn to know who it is. I close my eyes and almost laugh at the sheer coincidence, bracing myself, before I finally turn. Mateo's gaze meets min, his expression both surprised and strangely calm, as if he'd always known he would find me here.

"Rose." His voice is a soft murmur, barely audible over the chill wind that sweeps through the square. I wonder if he can feel the weight between us, the thousand unsaid things that have lingered since I left him behind a few weeks ago. Has he left since then? And come back? What about Ilsy? Is she here with him? My heart beats faster at that thought. I miss her innocent joy, which always made me smile.

"I didn't expect you to find me here. I thought you'd left," I say quietly, not breaking his gaze.

"I didn't," he simply states, his tone almost disbelieving, as though he's not sure if I'm really standing here. "I thought I'd lost you."

The words settle in the space between us, and I feel the heaviness of them, the weight I've always carried. I look down, my fingers clutching the lapel of my coat, unsure of what to say, unsure if I have the right to respond at all. I can already feel that tingling return. Soon, it'll turn into burning and then...I don't want to think about that.

"You keep leaving," he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper, edged with something that almost sounds like desperation. "Every time I think I've found you, you're gone."