Manic Attack

VI. Dolce & Banana

 It was a beautiful, bright day. Birds were chirping, skyscrapers glinting, vehicles honking, and people brushing past each other- a typical day in New York but the sunlight felt different today. It felt warm and golden on my skin. I should have left my solar powered Kindle charger by the windowsill. The regret brought to mind one of the few wise things Hillary Clinton said-

Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been.

I had to agree with her. Life really was short. Look at what had happened since the moment I had stupidly asked Monica Knightley to a dance. Boy, what a nincompoop move that was. My life, as I knew it, had come to an untimely end. No more bird watching for me or riding my solar powered bike through the cobbled streets of West Village. Today, the only thing I could do with the utmost privacy was going to the washroom in my neighbor's apartment. Mrs. Smirnov had agoraphobia, so all the windows in her house were heavily tinted. Not even a reporter with military-grade night vision goggles would be able to see through them.

Call me paranoid but I liked to take a piss without feeling the pricking unease of being watched.

I was basking in the sunlight flooding through the window with my eyes closed. It was quiet in the café, an atmosphere I was coming to value more and more each da—

"Is he dead?"

"I told you that he needed a house instead of fashion advice. Now, look what you've done."

I scrambled to compose myself under the watchful eyes of Miss Knightley and her assistant. They were looking at me very closely. My face grew hot as I fished for words in the bottomless pool of lexical knowledge in my mind. "Good ni—Good morning."

"Good night to you too, Mr. Moseby." Monica Knightley greeted with a broad smile. The pink of her gums peaked from the stretched corners of her lips. "Shall I tuck you in for the night?"

The assistant, whose name I couldn't recollect, nodded. "I know a few critically acclaimed lullabies if that helps."

"No, thank you. I-I meant good morning."

She chuckled. Strands of hair stuck to her sticky looking lips as she spoke. "To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to show up."

Me too. On Wednesdays, I usually headed to the library and worked on completing my thesis. The possibility of getting my old life back, which had appeared before me yesterday was too tempting to look past. I suppose what had led me here was hope for the same old, routine tomorrow.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Miss Knightley said. I was caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. "So, shall we jump right into it?"

I nodded. The meditative effects of waking up to a warm morning were slowly beginning to wear off. I could feel it in the way my heart raced as Miss Knightley reached into a beige envelope and slid out a sheet of thick paper. "I'll start by explaining the terms stated in this contract. If you have any questions, let's discuss those at the end of my monologue, okay?"

I nodded, swallowing. My throat had suddenly lost all its moisture. "Can I have some coffee first?"

"Thought you'd never ask." The blonde assistant gestured towards Dave and ordered two coffees- the usual for me and a double shot American espresso for him. No sugar. I shuddered at the mere thought of what his coffee must taste like.

While Miss Knightley waited for my coffee to arrive, restlessly tapping the table with her long blue nails, I reached into my backpack and took out the book I was currently reading. It was a research reference for my thesis but still interesting enough to keep me hooked. I had dog-eared the pages I wanted to read and understand one more time before referring to them in my writing. Now seemed like a good time to go through them.