A Study in Introspection

Prologue

The "Trigger"    

"It satisfies no one to write about how good they feel.", he thought to himself, remembering what had happened not even an hour ago, while he was spending his free afternoon with his girlfriend, Saraphine, whose actual name was Sahra, but whom he always called the longer version of itself because it fit her personality better: just the way biscuit fits the sweets cookies better. He had presented her his newest piece of literature. It was one which he was especially fond of, but she called it melodramatic and misery romanticising. They ended up arguing about it and he left soon afterwards in a fit of blind anger. The moment he reached his small, battered flat, he hastily put off his coat and with his shoes still on his tired feet he started writing. The night fell soon, came creeping upon the city like wolves to their prey but he didn't acknowledge it. Not once did he look up from his yellowish piece of paper until it was, that his alarm clock rang, causing him to jump on his old screeching wooden chair. He got up and called his bureau to tell them that he had caught a virus and had to stay away from work for the next two weeks and made sure that he sounded as miserable as the chain smoker on his dying bed. Then he brushed his teeth, put his coat back on, skipping breakfast, too captivated by his work to actually feel the hunger roaring in his restless body and took the bus to get to Saraphine. One thought was in his head all the time and it wouldn't leave no matter how long he shut his eyes.

When the bus finally came to a halt at the right station he quickly got up and left in a great hurry, rushing past the bus driver and along the dirty grey streets which were peculiarly uncrowded.

After a small walk he got to the tiny house Saraphine owned and knocked the door, trying to remain as patient as possible, but not quite succeeding at it.

The door was opened soon afterwards and revealed a short, stick thin lady at the age of twenty five, who had a pair of quite lifeless hazel eyes, and full, raw bitten lips. All in all she looked as if a stay in a psychiatry would do her some good.

Confused, she asked him in and then led him upstairs to the living room. He sat down on the old dark red sofa and wordlessly handed his new story to her. She took a seat next to him, leaning against his chest, her long brown hair spread on his shoulders her eyes tracing the lines which he had written ever so passionately, only to stop every now and then to show some sort of facial expressions, which he could not very well read. So the minutes passed and his impatience grew, while his foot was tapping furiously and expectantly. After a while she finally stopped, put the paper asides, sighing heavily and mumbled: "you just don't get it, do you?" He threw her an asking glance to which she responded: "its a mask. Fake . Shallow, artificial- and ontop of that your thoughts are way too loose. Also your sentence structure is as poor as ever and your metaphors not fitting."

She looked at him, her eyes a riddle and that's when he leaned towards her face and kissed her, the two pair of rough, dry lips meeting as if they were two complementary ends of a magnet . He went on with this as long as it pleased, then coming to a rather abrupt halt, leaving her confused only to stand up without a word and left the house taking huge steps, even tremendous, one who knows the plot of story would ironically say.

Still walking he took his phone out and threw it away.

After a somewhat troublesome ride home he once again reached his flat and this time he put on as much coffee as the poor kettle would take before taking off his clothes and entering the bathtub filled with water as cold as eyes.

When he heard that the coffee had started to boil and found himself to be quite clean he got up put on something and entered the kitchen. Not bothering to fill the coffee in a cup he took the whole kettle and a mug with him, both of which were placed upon his old loyal wooden table. He gulped down some of the bitter dark brown liquid and with that he started the Hungering Phase.