Sensation

I stood in the hallway, waiting for the landlord to come and see me. The housekeper went back to her occupations, I could hear her arm sweeping the air. It was neither a noise, nor a sound. A movement. I could hear a movement. I don’t exactly know how long I stood there, half-hypnotized by the movement of her arm in the air that I couldn’t actually see. I could feel something slightly carress objects at one point of the movement. I was completely absorbed by it.

“ Hello Mrs M. I didn’t expect you so early…”

My head slowly turned to the place where the voice came from, but my brain was still with the moment before. My eyes showed me a body, somewhere I knew I had to answer something, but I could hardly remember who was in the body.

“Again in your faeries as I can see…please, come with me, we’ll have a cup of coffee. Theresa, could you serve us a coffee in the drawing-room?”

I only saw the arm of the body opening the air to the room on the left, the room where the movement came from. I tried hardly to catch the last ondulations of the movement, but it faded, I could feel it disappear. I wanted to stop any other movement to catch only a piece of these ondulations. But I failed. I walked to the direction pointed by the arm of the body.

The room was full of various small objects. There was an invisible cloud in the air. I could feel the small glass statues looking at me. They were laughing silently. They were almost mocking me. As if they knew I was the only one that could hear them and I could not explain it.

I sat on the sofa, as far as I could from any objects, near the bow-window, trying to remember why I was there. Theresa came back with a silvered tray on which there were two cups and one of these Italian coffee-maker. The heat of the coffee in contact with the metal, the steam which succeeded in finding the only gap where it could escape it.

Theresa poured the coffee. An other sound, the contact of the hot liquid with the delicate pieces of porcelain. I felt completely submerged by all the different waves. How can people make as if there was nothing… ? I was almost drowned in the ondulations.

“ Thank you Theresa. Leave it there…”, the voice of the landlord was so loud that it deviated some of the ondulations.

As she was going, I tried to find the tool on her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know where she had put it. I saw her walking, her body at the same time was crossed by some waves and she deviated some others too.

“ Well, I heard you were working on a new manuscript… ? How is it going ?”, suddenly my mind came back to the landlord.

“…yes, it’s…going.”I felt as if I had digged the whole night in a lost mine to find these words, knowing they were of poor value, mainly for the Landlord, but that was all I had found.

“Great, great. At least you’re working at it. You know that I am attached to artists……………..writing……………..difficult art………..”, I knew I had no other « new words » to offer, then I would need to use some ancient ones, hoping this would be sufficient.

“ I know that I owe you a lot, Mr Van End, your patience is unique. I understand that as a Landlord, you expect a minimum from your tenants, paying the rent for instance. I had to quit my last job, as all the others, because I could not stand to go there day after day, doing things that had no meanings out of « earning money ». I know how stupid this sounds, that in the perspective of people, I should grow up a little and endorse my responsibilities as an adult. Going to work to earn money, maybe even to marry and have a child…”.

“ How surprising you end to speak about it… ! In fact I wanted to speak with you about my nephew, Charles. He’s an editor you know, and I wondered if you would accept to come and have a dinner some day to meet him, maybe you could bring your manuscript… ?”

At that level I had lost the connection. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Only the body of the Landlord, sat on his Victorian armchair, the cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes directed to me as if they were logically waiting for my head just to bend positively.

The cloud, the waves, everything disappeared. The objects were not laughing anymore. I was just sat, having a coffee in a drawing-room with my Landlord.

And my head bent. Positively.

“Perfect ! Let’s say next week ! On Thursday evening ! Then I should let you go and prepare the best version of your manuscript in that case !” I had drunk only the half of my cup of coffee. But it was already cold. Small loss. I stood up and followed him to the hallway. I could not feel anything anymore. I was cold too.

In the hallway, my eyes fell on the feather-duster Theresa must have been using earlier. It was there, still and cold, too. I wanted to try and take it in my hands, to try to make it alive again, but I knew my hand was too cold to succeed.