The jail

"The jail"

(by Grace Diaz)

My name is Steven Messa, a thirty-five years old man, dark hair and brown eyes. Not that looks ever mattered to me, especially not at this point, not in this place.

I have been in this place so many years, that I already lost count. This has been my permanent residence ever since the night of the accident. Ironically, I was the one who got the worst sentence, even though I was innocent.

The jail was lonely, cold and plain heartbreaking.

At first family and friends came to visit me regularly, after a while they just stopped coming.

My only company were the other inmates, who mostly kept to themselves in fear to be misjudged.

Day by day I stood behind the bars in the garden, watching people passing by, not turning their heads for once, ignoring us.

The neighborhood, the city, the world, they all have changed to much since I got locked up. I couldn't recognize it anymore.

Sometimes I wondered if my friends still get together every Friday to enjoy a beer at the bar, just how we used to do.

The only friend of mine who came to see me a few times was Gerard, he wasn't part of my 'party group', since he was always quite and shy, but I guess he was the only one who didn't forget about me.

I missed my parents, my home, my family; I even missed the people from the office.

I haven't celebrated a birthday, Christmas or New Year's Eve since I lost my freedom.

The nights were long, restless, and empty. I enjoyed taking walks in the garden during the day, anything was better than my dark and cold jail cell.

Sometimes I wished I could have had a piece of paper and a pencil, to pour my feelings, but that was not possible.

As the world kept turning, nonstop, it seemed like time had been frozen in here. The same boring every day routine could have made anyone lose their minds.

Nothing really happened, until one morning when everything changed.

It was the month of July, I can't remember what year, a beautiful summer day ahead, when I saw her for the very first time.

Her black lose hair, her green emerald eyes and her graceful walk made her look like she had come out of a fairy tale.

Of course, she didn't even see me, she was lost in a different world.

From that day on she would delight me with her presence, always at eight o'clock, always looking breathtaking.

She wouldn't look at me, or be aware of me, but it was still worth it to stand there as an invisible man, just to see her.

I used to imagine how it would be to be able to ask her out, to share a coffee with her, and get to know each other, to learn about who she is; to get to know her heart. My reality was so different from hers, that I knew winning her love was out of my reach.

My home and my sentence would be reasons enough for her to run away from me.

My situation never stopped me from adoring this woman from a distance, to wish I could walk by her side holding her hand. More than anything I wish I was a free man, free to love her, free to dream of a life with her.

None knew about my 'platonic love', none even suspected that I was falling madly in love with her, with her smile, her bright eyes, with the vibes she passed when she was around.