3 a.m. I’m breathing heavily and sweating like I just ran a marathon. I’m exhausted, not physically, psychologically. And I can’t fall asleep. As I place the weight of my head on my hands, and slowly start stretching my legs, I begin questioning what really happened after I closed my eyes. All those stories locked up in my mind are driving me insane, and it feels like those pills won’t control this anymore. So, instead of rolling in my bed, I decide to take a walk.
At the time I finish putting my dad’s old shirt, only 5 minutes have passed. I pick up the keys, my phone, a jacket plus a pack of cigarettes and leave the small apartment that I was trapped in with my demons. The streets are dark. Even though the lampposts light up the city, something remains black in its soul. After 30 minutes of looking for a reason to stay in this town, I find someone sitting in a bench, as hopeless as one can look.
-Do you have a light? — I ask the silhouette. He’s a young boy, but not a child. He has brown eyes that seemed to read me from the moment he laid their sights in me plus dark hair, and although he didn’t seem the kind of person that cared about his appearance, he was a delight to see, with a presence somewhat athletic and poetic.
-That depends — he smiles an hopeless kind of smile. Like he knew that none of that was worth it, and yet, he gave it a try. — do you have cigarettes to spare?