IF

Behind the Smiles

The wind puffs the litter, that an empty bag of chips is, away from the trashcan it fails to be into, and into the road where no one is there to see it. The orange glow from the lampposts planted like trees along the sidewalks provide such guidance it's impossible to bump onto something. Clouds loom above and hide the stars and the moon behind sight as the radiance above exposes their elegance.

At night, the world is moving so slow everything is taking their time.

Cars are parked after a long day and houses are dimly lit. Some are ready to go to bed but most of them are already far asleep. It doesn't matter if someone is tired or not because the melody of the night lulls them to sleep. It's either one passed out while watching late night shows or like almost everyone, tucked on their beds with phones on their drooling faces.

But the magic doesn't always work that way.

Even if the night harmonises perfectly with the movement of the world, it still hides a broken note. Its melancholy has its own sound that only few people can hear but never understand.

The lights in every room are off but eyes are widely open. The four corners hold no sound except for whimpers that cannot be withheld. Even if most people swim freely in their own dreams, some are still drowning in realities they can't escape.

On a random space just below the tree where shadows can hide unusual things, Leo appears as if the wind spits him out. He's feeling a little dizzy he doesn't know where to hold on to so he has to balance his own weight and he did. His hands posed as if he's surfing, his right foot forward and his left foot stepping on an empty bag of chips behind him. He stands straight, fixes his shirt and wanders his eyes around.

It's a familiar neighbourhood.

"Am I home?" he asks himself but then realised he's not. It's a different street with different cars and definitely different houses, but the one in front of him is not. "Jeff?"

That feeling when you're around a place you're so familiar with that you don't even have to open your eyes to know that you're in there? Leo can feel it.  Even with his eyes closed he knows how plainly painted the fences are and how the flower pots are filled with soil and poop of stray cats wandering around. He knows how the gate is closed and how the padlock is outside. He never really figured out how Jeff or his family do that or what the point even is but he doesn't mind.

He goes inside and without looking around he knows he passes by the table set on the mini front yard, standing on the grass and sprinklers just underneath it.

On his right side is a little dog house. Bruno instinctively reacts on his presence but after a short growl its ears shot up and its tail wags as he recognises Leo. "It's been a while, buddy." Leo pets Bruno to tell the dog how deeply he misses it. "Is your douchebag of a dad here?"

After one last stroke of the fur on the dog's head, it goes back inside his house on its own and that's Leo's cue to get on his feet.

Even the front door is the same. The two pieces of grapes hang with the wind chimes, too dry as they've been hanging in there since Christmas. It's already May and yes, it's still there.

A smirk plastered on Leo's face as he makes his way inside, nonchalantly getting through the closed door. The smell stays the same. It's as if the odour of what he remembers from his last visit, which is two months ago, lingers and doesn't want to ever go away. Maybe it's the smell of the house? Or maybe it hasn't been cleaned up since then.

The entire floor is not lit of course. The living room through the dining and kitchen area is dark but then again, Leo doesn't mind. He's been dead for over two weeks now and he's even accustomed to that kind of darkness when he was still alive. The thought of walking his way to the stairs and up without lighting doesn't bother him but one thing has him turning the lamp on the small table beside the couch.