Chapter Text
Bit by bit, the singing of the birds became more noticeable as the sun woke up, rising lazily over the horizon. The streetlights were finally resting after a long night of preventing the darkness from completely overtaking the poor drunks who wandered aimlessly, trying to surrender to it. The first coffee shops were opening, the roads were getting noisier, dogs began to bark, cats to meow, and whatever it is that fish do, assuming anyone actually has one.
The small town was getting ready for a new day, but there was someone who wasn’t quite ready yet
Amidst all that noise, a sort of beeping sound began to ring closer to his ear, making him reluctantly try to open his eyes, without success, due to the heaviness of his eyelids after having kept them forced shut all night. In a foul mood, the man stood up, stretching slowly and painfully while rubbing his eyes to force them open. When he finally succeeded, he turned directly toward the culprit of his awakening, as if he hadn't been the one to program the little machine to wake him up at that hour in the first place.
With a sigh, he weakly moved his arm to turn off the alarm and swung his legs to the left edge of the bed, letting them hang there while he stared at the floor. He looked as if he were recounting his entire life story, but in reality, he wasn't thinking about anything; he wanted to think about nothing. He wanted to stay in bed and remain there forever, but life is unfair, very unfair, especially for him, and for that very reason, he forced himself to move.
Each heavy step he took triggered an even louder yawn, as he realized he was far more tired than usual. He wondered if it was enough to call in sick to work, knowing full well that wasn't the case. To clear the gray clouds weighing down his head, he went straight to the bathroom, not forgetting, as usual, being so clumsy, to stub his pinky toe on the edge of the door, biting his lip at the sensation and cursing himself. He splashed his face with cold water, patted his cheeks a few times, and looked in the mirror. He was a mess, and just thinking about having to get ready and take off his soft pajamas made him sigh again, wearing the most depressing expression anyone could have seen.
Mind you, the one thing he liked most about the day was preparing breakfast. So, naturally, he hurried to the kitchen with the excuse that he would make a good coffee to wake himself up, lying to himself, knowing he’d have very little time left to get ready, but he didn't care. Since he was tired, he made himself a proper Full English breakfast, with fried eggs cooked just right, sausages browned on all sides, baked beans... well, everything a British breakfast entails, all made perfectly, just as the dish should be.
He didn’t think much about what to distract himself with while eating and automatically grabbed the TV remote, turning it on and trying to find a channel he liked. One of his favorites was the one with grandparents sharing recipes; besides giving him new cooking ideas, he found it adorable to see how they guided the viewers as if they were their own grandchildren...
Grandchildren...
Grandparents...
Well, that’s enough TV for today, he told himself unnecessarily while pressing the power button and finishing his breakfast quickly so as not to dwell on sentimental thoughts that could ruin his day even further. He picked up his plate, scraping the leftovers into his mouth with his fork, and quickly gathered everything to put in the dishwasher without a second thought; he’d clean it later.
He went straight to the bathroom to shower and freshen up, and he had to admit he was proud of himself. Usually, he took forever to eat breakfast and was a bit slow with everything else in general, spending minutes pondering mundane things that ultimately led nowhere. And that was exactly what he was doing now, once again...
He stared at the closet wearing only a towel while the rest of his body slowly dripped water onto his bed, unable to decide. In the end, after much mental debate, he opted for an outfit that matched his exhaustion: a long sleeved shirt, trousers, shoes, and a jacket, all black, covering him entirely except for his head. Even if the blacks didn't quite match and it looked a bit tacky, it would suffice for the rest of the day. Then he fixed his hair as if he were some 80s heartthrob and applied a bit of makeup to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He moved from the vanity straight to grab his wallet and check if he had everything he needed: keys, coin purse, XXL refreshing strawberry mint gum... ah, yes, he had it all.
Finally, the man stood before the door with his keys, turning sadly toward his warm home; if he had to describe it, he’d say it was like your grandmother's house but subtly modernized, and he loved that atmosphere. Knowing he had to leave only added to his heaviness. He opened the door, avoiding another glance back to keep from convincing himself to stay, and shut it abruptly, turning the keys twice to double lock it. He saw the elevator was occupied by other neighbors, which only irritated him more, and he forced himself to take the stairs as if it were his first time, gripping the handrail in case he fell, given how drunk he looked. He reached the main lobby, which my god ,was enormous. The sound of footsteps didn't help; it could have easily passed for a fashion show. If a camera popped out from a corner, he wouldn't be surprised.
When he reached the great door and finally pushed it hard enough to open, which only increased the chances of him falling and taking a nap right there, the cold outside air hit him directly without giving him a chance to adjust. However, it also helped wake him up enough to walk to work.
As he walked through the cold streets of his small town, he noticed that the closer he got to the center, the more peculiar decorations appeared. Ah, right, he’d forgotten Christmas was coming, and he had been so busy trying to make ends meet that he couldn't even afford to enjoy the annual holidays. Even so, he really liked this season, with the streets filled with wonderful, adorable lights and decorations, and the children hoping Santa wouldn't bring them coal. In fact, it reminded him of a neighbor who had misbehaved during the last week of the previous year and was given coal; but instead of getting angry, she thought it would be a fantastic idea to have a barbecue with it. Sometimes he was very envious of the positivity of children.
Speaking of little ones, our protagonist couldn't stop staring at the decorated shop windows like he was one of them, observing the differences and the dedication in each one, enjoying the atmosphere without realizing he was wasting time. He stopped at one that reminded him a bit of himself, crouching down to analyze it: brown eyes, blonde hair, surprisingly dressed in black, but the shirt was decorated with a red circle in the middle, to give it a bit of color, he assumed. The little figure was trying to reach the mailbox to send a letter and turned away sadly because he couldn't reach it. He had huge red cheeks; how cute, it almost made him want to try and help...
"Ugh... Dammit! Shit!" a voice suddenly shouted beside him, startling him and snapping him out of his thoughts. The voice came from the doorway of a coffee shop where, next to the counter, a woman was cursing incessantly while searching through all her pockets. She wore a fuchsia cowboy hat with one side pinned up, while the other side showed small white decorations, some of which formed large hearts. Her shirt was the same color but without the decorations; instead, it explained why she was dressed so curiously, as the left side of her chest read "Civil Guard." No wonder she wore a belt full of different weapons on her hip. The rest of her outfit consisted of tight jeans tucked into brown boots, also decorated with hearts. Rather than looking like someone who could arrest you, she looked more like she was there to make you fall in love, like she was doing Cupid's job, shooting people to make them fall in love, or however that’s supposed to work...
He hurried to peek in to understand what was really happening, snooping on the situation. In doing so, he was also able to see the person behind the counter in more detail; he wore the typical outfit of a coffee shop worker, with a sort of green and black visor, an apron of the same pattern and color, and the rest of his clothes were in less intense shades of green. The man looked far more tired than he did, to the point where it seemed he couldn't even handle life and would jump out the window if he didn't get a vacation. Our protagonist found it quite funny, telling himself that he shared the same sentiment right now, especially with Christmas just around the corner.
"Are you sure you don't have change? This is all I have..." she finally said after searching for a long time and finding nothing, causing the eavesdropper to leave his thoughts again and focus on the conversation.
"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but we really have run out of ten dollar bills. The only option I can guarantee is if you pay by card..." he said tiredly, sighing, wanting to move past the problem and be at peace again for the remainder of his shift. The woman looked down, unsure of what to do, with no idea how to solve this. As the atmosphere grew increasingly awkward—
"Hey, excuse me!" said the man who looked like he’d just come from a funeral, stepping forward with quick strides, nearly tripping in the process. He approached them, feeling the warmth and atmosphere of the shop. "You're out of change, right?" he asked the cashier first before turning to the woman. "Let me help you." He opened his wallet to take out his coin purse and finally pulled out his credit card, intending to pay for it himself.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second! There's really no need, kid! I can live with losing fifty dollars for a coffee," she interrupted, waving her open hands up and down to tell him not to rush, her face showing a mix of slight surprise and concern.
"No, no! Really, it's on me! Besides, it gives me an excuse to order a coffee for myself too," he replied, smiling warmly at the woman. She stood stunned, not quite knowing whether to insist or accept his invitation. He took it as acceptance and ordered two Mochas, then paid for them.
"You're truly very kind; I thought for a second you were pulling my leg," she finally said, looking to the side with her arms crossed.
"How could I pull the leg of a Civil Guard?" he replied, chuckling at the idea while covering his face with one hand, trying to keep his nose from running.
"Don't be so sure... It's more common than it seems," she sighed with a look of anguish and distaste, looking down as she stepped back and leaned against the left counter where the trays were received. He followed her but remained standing, leaning on one hand.
Silence reigned for a few minutes, neither knowing what to say to the other, until the "Cupid" finally decided to ask the question she had been holding back, unsure if it was worth it.
"So... what do you have planned now? I know it sounds weird, but since you've bought me a coffee, if you'd like... you could sit with me... in the cafe."
The taller man stared at her, perplexed, until he started laughing so hard that his nose finally gave way. Noticing it, he quickly covered it up. The shorter woman was confused by the sudden laughter but hurried to take out some tissues and gave him one. He accepted it gratefully and began to blow his nose while answering her:
"What kind of way is that to ask someone to have a coffee with you?" he clarified with little giggles he couldn't help.
The other woman began to turn red with embarrassment, looking at him crossly and quickly attacking his comment:
"I don't really know how to phrase things when it's not formal, okay?" she replied, thinking that if she justified herself, the laughter would stop. But that only made it intensify, embarrassing her even more.
"Are you... are you going to stop laughing? Is it really that funny?" she finally snapped, looking at him with a face of plea and shame, both arms bent at the elbow with her palms half-open.
Suddenly, an alarm began to blare, startling everyone and causing the taller man to drop his tissue from the shock. Realizing it was his phone, he pulled it out, discovering it was the alarm he’d set to end his break and start his shift once and for all. His heart sank when he saw it.
The cowgirl just looked at him, confused, especially seeing him frozen, and decided to act. "Hey, buddy... are you—"
"I am so sorry! But I have to go!" he reacted. When he saw the coffees arriving on a tray brought by the worker, he grabbed one of them and bolted for the door, making it spin non-stop as he left.
"HEY KID! THAT MUG BELONGS TO THE... Dammit, he's gone," the worker shouted, giving up quickly, which only made the woman let out a few laughs at the performance.
"One more laugh and I'm kicking you out of the shop," he said, looking at her with the most serious face she’d ever seen, pointing his finger. It was clear he needed a vacation.
"Oops... okay, okay... how dull," she responded, simply offended and a bit intimidated as she went to sit with her coffee at one of the tables.
A while had passed since he started running; he could say he’d covered a few miles by now. Checking his watch, he was only ten minutes late; he didn't think they’d scold him for just that much. Miraculously, throughout the whole way, he kept the coffee steady, barely spilling a drop, even after running and dodging people like they were obstacles.
He felt his heart finally relax as he realized he was right next to the building, with only a few meters left to reach the door. Just as he was about to enter, he saw a figure suddenly emerge from the same place, making him stop dead in his tracks and nearly fall over again from the fright, for some reason, the scares never seemed to end.
Regaining his composure, he looked more closely at the person in front of him. Standing with a certain nervousness, the man wore a white suit, while his undershirt and tie were different shades of gray, black shoes, and a white hat that accompanied the elegant attire; he recognized him immediately.
"Boss!" he shouted without thinking, then covered his mouth for having done it so loudly. "Oops... sorry... I didn't mean to shout like that so early in the morning," he added, worried, praying he hadn't annoyed him too much.
"I'm happy to see you too, Mequot," he spoke, giving him a worried smile and raising his hand for a handshake.
Mequot had forgotten that the boss liked everyone to greet him before anything else, so he didn't hesitate to return the greeting, smiling back.
"What are you doing out here at this hour?" the boss continued, knowing it was technically his shift, making the other man nervous. Before he could argue a response, the boss analyzed him, seeing him holding a mug and with messy hair. "Don't tell me you're skipping work hours? What bad luck to run right into me..." he joked, enjoying the frightened face he got in response. Mequot cleared his throat to finally explain what this was all about.
"Don't get the wrong idea, actually... I'm... a tiny bit late..." he justified, looking down while rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation in the first place because he knew it would put him in a bad light, plus he wasn't the type of person who lied. Looking down, he noticed the coffee in his hands again, giving him an idea to ease his visible shame. "That's why I brought this coffee with me, sir, to give it to you as an apology," he made up, raising his head again and offering the cup of coffee. Technically, he hadn't lied, as he hadn't thought otherwise either.
The other man looked at him, surprised, knowing that explanation was very suspicious. After all, how could he be sure he’d run into him, given he was constantly everywhere? And besides, what sense did it make to give it to him and not his direct supervisor? Anyway, coffee is coffee; he couldn't say no. He took the cup without a word and sniffed it to know exactly what kind of coffee it was. Upon recognizing it, he was startled immediately.
"A Mocha? How did you know it’s my favorite coffee?" he said, laughing in surprise.
"Uhmm... ehmm..." he stammered, trying to formulate something convincing enough in his head. "Well, you're always talking about the things you like; eventually, one remembers..." he said simply, hoping it was convincing enough for him to believe it. And in the end, it did work; it seemed like a fair answer to the boss, since it was true that he did that. He responded with another chuckle, saying a short "Thanks, kid," before moving his hand to mess up his hair even more.
"Well, I have work to do, and I'm only wasting your time. You have every right to tell your supervisor you were talking to me; that way he won't give you a lecture."
He began to walk away, waving goodbye, and once he was far enough, Mequot started celebrating how well his move had played out as he headed for the entrance to begin his long workday.
The day flew by, and it was already almost 8:00 PM. Shops were closing, cars were thinning out, and lights were beginning to turn on again to combat the darkness. Last night's drunks were returning sober to the bars to repeat the same routine, and animals in general were going to sleep, though there’s never a shortage of a dog barking at the whole neighborhood to wake them up.
A man in white returned once again to his building, arriving in the most high class way possible: in a limousine. When he stepped out, he was escorted to his office, where he met his secretary. Seeing him, she stood up to indicate she wanted to speak with him, making him stop and look at her with curiosity.
"Sir! I wanted to speak with you about something!" she introduced, before grabbing a paper and getting straight to the point. "Look, it’s almost the end of the year, and it’s time to start giving raises to our employees." She stopped and fell silent abruptly instead of continuing, properly analyzing the paper in her hands.
The person listening intently grew impatient at the sudden silence and decided to break it with a simple phrase regarding the context she had given:
"So, what's the problem?"
The serious tone in his voice made it clear he wasn't in the mood for games; if she wanted to discuss something important, it had to be right then and there. With that established, the woman continued:
"It turns out we’ve been going over the budget allocation, and at the end of the day, we’ve realized we can't guarantee a raise for everyone. We need your input before the holidays start; you’re the one who keeps track of employee performance."
The boss let out a long sigh, nodding instead of speaking, knowing he was in for another sleepless night. The secretary led him to the accounting room, where they were already discussing the matter, waiting for him while having a few drinks since the holidays were fast approaching.
"Drinking without me, huh?" he said playfully to the people in the room.
"Hehe, sorry sir, but you were taking a long time to get here, so we eventually got impatient," one of them replied.
"No worries! As long as there’s some left! But... where’s my glass?" He scanned the table as he sat in the center, hoping to find one.
"Ah... about that. Like he said, since you arrived late, the people in charge of bringing the bottles only gave out enough glasses for those present," another person replied, which left the boss quite disappointed. "But don't worry! We can go to the kitchen and ask for more..."
"No, no, don't even bother. I don't want you getting up just for a glass. Besides, the kitchen staff are probably getting ready to leave; it’s not worth bothering them." Even after saying this, he remained a bit down, as he really wanted a drink to relax a bit given his workload. He began looking for the necessary paperwork, and just as he was about to grab the last sheet he needed, he noticed something...
A mug?
He was puzzled to feel it there, but after pulling it out, he remembered why he had it. That morning, after Mequot gave him the mug, he had gone for a nice stroll while drinking it, enjoying one of his favorite flavors; the beach view had only made it better. When he finished, he had no idea where to leave the mug, so he decided to tuck it into his briefcase for the time being.
He couldn't thank Mequot enough for blessing both his morning and afternoon. Even if he had to drink from a mug, he didn't mind much, he had done weirder things in the past.
After a democratic discussion, they reached the conclusion that the best approach would be to rank the workers based on their specific departments in the factory, comparing them against each other. Since funds were tight, they went with the simple route: whoever had the most seniority or put in the most effort earned the raise.
But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, as many of the choices were difficult to make. And among those difficult choices was our protagonist.
"This section is also a tough call, sir. It’s the kitchen department, the one that prepares high-quality gourmet frozen meals." He paused for a few seconds to turn to the candidate sheet and continued: "We’ve ruled out the rest, but there are two who have us stumped. The first is Mequot, whom you already know. He’s been here for two years now, and while he’s not the fastest, having some delays with certain batches, his quality of work is undeniable. The second candidate is..."
Devesto.
"He arrived last quarter, but even though he’s been here a very short time, he has shown incredible skill in the kitchen and amazing speed. We’ve been able to sell twice as much as before, and the reviews have become more positive, saying the quality has improved. This is the first time we’ve seen someone so dedicated; honestly, we thought he wouldn't keep it up for long, but he’s managed to do it so far."
The boss didn't pay much attention at first, thinking it was all nonsense and that they always tended to exaggerate everything. But when he saw the sheet with the graphs, he was left speechless. Everything was incredibly high and positive, with a surprising level of consistency. How had he not heard anything about this guy?
One of the accountants, satisfied by the reaction, felt it was the right time to speak up again: "That was our exact reaction. Even though his stats are impressive, Mequot still beats him on seniority and, to some extent, on conduct. Even though he’s great at his job, many employees have complained that his attitude is... how should I put it?" He stared at the ceiling thoughtfully for a few seconds until something finally clicked. "A real pain in the ass"
The whole room burst out laughing at the blunt comparison, the boss included. However, he stopped laughing before the others, knowing that this decision would ultimately rest on him. It was certainly a tough call: having to choose between a worker who had been around for a long time and, while not the most efficient, was one of the most well-regarded he’d seen; versus another with impressive stats but less seniority and a temperament that rubbed people the wrong way, which was also an important factor.
He spent a good while thinking, arms crossed and looking upward, though every now and then he glanced back at the papers on the table. In the end, he felt the obvious choice was Devesto. Efficiency was everything in business, and he felt, for some reason, that this man was aiming for more; this kind of performance wasn't common and, according to his logic, everything happened for a reason. If he wanted him to stay, he’d have to give him the raise.
He was about to announce his answer, standing up to get everyone's attention so they could start the paperwork, but in the process, his hand accidentally knocked into an object that drenched his desk in alcohol, a surprise he hadn't expected in that moment.
"Don't worry, sir," one of the accountants jumped in. "We have plenty of copies; I can bring you another if you need it."
But the boss wasn't looking at the papers soaked in the thick liquid; he was staring at the mug he’d pushed across the desk... The mug Mequot had given him.
The elegant man looked away, not responding to the accountant. His face was a mix of regret and concern. Finally, he looked forward, leaning both hands on the corners of his desk, not caring that they were getting wet too. He proceeded to give his final answer:
"I’ve made a decision. After debating it thoroughly in my head, the person deserving of the raise..." He paused, reconsidering one last time as he looked at the others in the room, all waiting intently. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and finally continued:
"It will be Mequot."
A few people looked surprised but immediately started writing in their notebooks to take the necessary steps. One or two looked relieved, while the majority were disappointed, clearly wanting to complain.
"I don't want to hear a single complaint about this. It was a difficult choice to make since you couldn't decide for yourselves, and I don't want another discussion about what you think of the person," he clarified, glaring at those who looked dissatisfied, making them look away awkwardly. "Now, if everything is clear, let's move on to the next section."
For some reason, he felt the other man deserved a reward for his effort, and that he shouldn't be crushed by someone else simply because they were better than him. Or perhaps he just reminded him of himself when he was young; that was the most likely reason. Either way, it didn't matter what made him decide; what mattered was that he didn't regret it.
It was around 10:00 PM when an elegant, half drunk man headed for the main exit after a long workday. Exhausted, he just wanted to get home and lie down next to his wife. But as he stepped outside, a figure caught his eye, moving restlessly and looking anxious.
"Mequot? What are you doing here?" he asked, quite surprised to see the shorter man, though not displeased. He was, however, worried about what he was up to so late at night.
"Boss?" he turned, also surprised, not expecting to see him twice in one day since he’d hardly seen him at all in the last few years. "I'm waiting for the bus..." he said simply, pointing to the tall metal pole with a bus stop sign listing different routes.
The boss understood but remained puzzled. "But didn't the buses stop running around here because of the year-end roadworks?" He looked at him with concern and doubt, resting his thumb under his chin as the man in front of him stared back, wondering if he was mistaken. He half-expected Mequot's reaction: eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
"THERE ARE ROADWORKS?" he shouted, clutching his hair in desperation. The boss couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Have you seriously been waiting there for two hours?" Receiving no direct answer and seeing him lower his head while blushing with embarrassment only made the boss's laughter grow. "I don't believe it... Mequot, you’re one of a kind."
As the laughter continued, the blonde man’s expression turned sad, almost depressing, as he didn't even try to defend himself against his boss's teasing. When the boss noticed this, his laughter died down, and the fun atmosphere turned into an awkward one; he felt bad for mocking him in that state. The elegant man stepped closer. Not understanding the sudden sadness, he leaned down so they were eye-level, resting one hand on his knee and the other on Mequot's shoulder, getting his attention.
"Everything okay, kid?"
Mequot looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that or even stop laughing. He then looked a bit uncomfortable; having to talk about sentimental things with his own boss... it felt way too weird.
"Look, if you don't want to tell me, it's fine," the boss said, seeing his discomfort. The man in the "funeral outfit" felt bad for making him feel awkward. Besides, he didn't think it was a bad idea to finally talk to someone about his problems, even if only on the surface.
"No, no, it's just... I just feel like everything is going worse than I thought, that's all," he finally blurted out, sighing as he let it out after holding it in for so long.
Hearing the confession, the boss couldn't help but identify with him; he could feel the weight of what he was saying. The man in white wasn't great at comforting others, but he had an idea. He stood up on the opposite side where his hand rested and used it to pull him closer, intending to cheer him up.
"Listen, I don't know exactly what's going on in your life right now, and I don't know what happened before, but I can guarantee that what’s coming for you is going to be big."
Mequot turned to him with an exaggerated expression that said, "What the hell are you talking about, old man?" His boss laughed again, then winked, gave him a pat on the back, and walked away without further explanation.
"Hey, wait! What do you mean by that?"
"Didn't I say it's 'going to happen'? Don't be impatient, kid. The impatience killed the cat," he called back from a distance.
"I don't think that's how the saying goes..." Mequot noted. The man in the distance paused for a second before continuing as if nothing happened.
"Meh, whatever. Curiosity's going to kill you too if you keep asking."
Mequot didn't respond, giving up and letting him go, with the older man's nonsense stuck in his head. Maybe too much work had gotten to him; that seemed most likely. Mequot sighed, watching him walk away without looking back, knowing he’d have to do the same. Now he had to walk for an hour or two to get home...
Alone...
In the dark...
All by himself...
Without anyo—
Okay, okay, he got the point. He couldn't lie; even at his age, he was still a bit afraid of walking alone at night, though he knew many people felt the same way. Anyway, he took a deep breath and started walking in the opposite direction. Every step felt like he was walking into the mouth of a beast, which only made him more nervous. To distract himself, he started looking at the shops, closed and covered in graffiti, and the bars packed with seniors just waiting for the year to end so they could retire, betting all their money thinking they might win the lottery. It wasn't all bad, though; the Christmas lights in the streets gave his walk a magical touch, so to speak. Without meaning to, he began to enjoy the silence and the peace of the moment, just him and his thoughts. It wasn't depressing; it was unique.
...
Until he heard a noise by the curb. He turned and saw a rat trying to squeeze into a sewer; he thought it was odd but kept going. He drifted back into his thoughts, but before he could get deep, he heard another loud noise. He turned toward it and saw an old lady hanging out of a window, shouting: "My pot! My pot!"
There it was, lying in the grass.
The world really wanted to scare him today, didn't it?
He continued, slightly irritated, and within minutes, he heard another noise. This time it was much fainter, but he ignored it, thinking it was just a common street sound like the ones he’d been hearing the whole way.
The problem was that this particular "noise" wouldn't stop. Then he heard something sharp scraping quickly across the ground, followed by heavy footsteps that gradually got faster, as if they were closing in...
Oh no...
Someone was chasing him.
Panicked by the possibility, he felt the urge to run, but he also had no idea if it was actually happening; maybe it was just a drunk guy decided to get some exercise. He turned slowly, not stopping his run, just in case, and oh my god...
HE WAS BEING CHASED.
And the worst part was that it wasn't an average person who looked like they wanted to rob him; it looked like a seven foot tall guy running as if someone had stolen his grandma's cookies, carrying a massive knife that was almost grazing the floor.
Mequot let out a deafening scream, his face pale with terror, and started running like a madman with all his might. He was dead, beyond dead or maybe he was already dead and just hadn't realized it yet. The heavy footsteps of the giant man kept getting louder, a constant reminder that he was gaining ground. To make matters worse, his legs started to ache, as he wasn't used to running as fast as he could.
Suddenly, he finally saw his front door, glowing under a streetlight as if guiding him, helping him in his crisis. He looked back again to see how close the figure was; at the speed he was going, he was still a few blocks back. Maybe he had a chance. Maybe if he reached the door in time and opened it, he could save himself. He ran as hard as he could, using up every bit of energy, successfully hearing the footsteps grow fainter as he finally reached the door.
With his legs trembling, he fumbled everywhere for his keys until he found them in his left pocket, pulling them out so violently he nearly tore the fabric. He shoved the first key into the lock, but before he could turn it, the footsteps in the background grew faster, louder. The speed at which he was approaching seemed impossible; it was as if everything before had been a stroll, like a predator playing with its prey. He tried the second key, with no luck. In the poor lighting, he could barely tell them apart, and he didn't have time to check them all. As he was about to try the third, he looked up to see where the figure was, and this time he was on the very same street, with no sidewalk separating them. Mequot felt he couldn't take it anymore; his body couldn't withstand the pressure. His hands shook so much that getting the key in became an impossible mission. He pounded the door with his fist in desperation and collapsed to the ground, starting to cry, unable to do anything else but accept what was coming. He heard a low chuckle beside him, followed by the sudden sound of the sharp object being brandished and...
...
And suddenly, he heard laughter in the background. He turned automatically, seeing a couple approaching while flirting with each other. He stared at them for a few seconds until he snapped back to reality and turned to the other side where he was supposed to be getting stabbed.
...
There was absolutely nothing there.
He was completely stunned, bewildered, not knowing what had just happened. He noticed the couple looking at him like he was a vagrant trying to beg for money or something, and they went way out of their way to avoid him so they wouldn't "catch his poverty" or whatever. The blonde man stared at the ground for a few seconds, then looked both ways, stood up, put the correct key in, and went into the building. He took the elevator and quickly entered his apartment, double-checking the locks before heading straight to his room to collapse onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before finally passing out.
The following workdays weren't any better. The stress of that night turned into daily paranoia. Every afternoon after work, he had to walk home alone, feeling at every moment that someone was following him, turning around as he walked and running when he felt the atmosphere was too heavy to bear. That feeling moved from the dark streets to the workplace; he felt someone was constantly watching him. It even extended to his own home, where he had gone as far as boarding up the windows with wood, unable to stand the thought of seeing someone on the other side.
On a day not much different from these, his boss decided to give him the afternoon off, noticing his constant nervousness and telling him it would be better to rest because of the mess he was causing at work. He felt terrible, seeing how this was affecting his life, and he couldn't even escape it in sleep lately, the only thing he dreamed about was that night, except in his dreams, he actually died. To make it worse, his brain was quite creative, killing him in a different way in every nightmare. Thanks a lot, brain...
He walked through the streets of a half-empty city, which wouldn't be so strange to see if it weren't daytime, at least he didn't have to worry about being followed. All he wanted was to get home and rest; maybe he’d put on his favorite show again. He hadn't learned anything new in the past month, as it had been one of the busiest months for the company. He could also take the opportunity to finally do some grocery shopping, which he hadn't done in a while, and buy whatever he need—
"Hey, you!"
He jumped, noticing the voice was surprisingly close. He looked both ways on the sidewalk to see if someone was actually calling him, or if he’d gone crazy again.
"Yes, you! Over here on the right, silly!"
He turned toward the voice and saw her: the same woman he’d seen that morning he was running late. She was in the same outfit, smiling brightly and gesturing for him to come over. Mequot complied, entering the coffee shop. He realized it was the same one from that day, and for some reason, it felt a bit nostalgic.
"Hello again! Didn't expect to see you at this hour; usually people are still working or just starting." She stopped after seeing the pathetic state he was in, her face showing surprise and concern. "Good grief, kid, you look terrible," she said, stating the obvious.
"Quite a way to greet me," he replied. "I think I’m starting to see why you said you were bad at small talk..."
"Why you little...!" She stopped herself, huffing and relaxing her body before continuing. "No, no... you're right, sorry... Anyway, I'll get straight to the point so you don't mock me again... want me to buy you a coffee this time? You look like you need it. Think of it as me returning the favor from the other day."
Mequot could hardly keep from laughing, discreetly covering his mouth as he thought of his next line. Before he could say anything else, he replied, "So, you’ve learned your lesson from the other day, have you?" before laughing like a madman.
Her face turned red as a tomato, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or how angry she was in that moment. "You're asking for a punch," she threatened, clenching her fists. Before the conversation could escalate, the worker there interrupted them, saying that if they were going to cause trouble, they should do it outside. This made the woman stop immediately to avoid getting kicked out, and she ordered two coffees.
Once seated at the table, silence reigned for a few seconds before the younger man broke it to say what was on his mind.
"Sorry about earlier, really... I shouldn't make those kinds of jokes to a Civil Guard... but..."
"I'm an easy target for jokes, aren't I?" she interrupted, glaring at the coffee she was gripping, making Mequot feel a chill. "No need to justify yourself; I know perfectly well. I take it as a joke too, plus I know you don't mean any harm." She shifted her gaze toward him with a slight smile to reassure him, which worked. "Besides, I don't want to talk about that; I'm more interested in why you're in this state," she admitted, circling a finger to remind him of how he looked. He had to admit he hadn't realized he hadn't been taking care of himself lately, very unlike him, because he was constantly caught up in his paranoia. He thought for a few seconds if it was worth telling her. After all, they didn't know each other at all, and sharing a personal event would be weird again, but the truth was he had nothing else to talk about, nor anyone else to tell what he’d experienced. Maybe she could even help him. So, without making her wait any longer, he decided to gather his thoughts and tell her what really happened.
"That day, when I met you, I had to walk home alone at night. It wasn't the first time I’d done it, but usually, it’s not for work reasons." He paused to clear his throat and continued: "Anyway, straight to the point: as I was walking, a very tall man started following me. He had a long, sharp weapon with him and was running incredibly fast. I thought I was going to die right then." He felt another chill at the memory, trying to hide his face from the visible beads of sweat on his forehead and the twitch starting in his lip. "But suddenly, a couple passed by on the other side, and when I turned around, he was gone."
He looked back at her after calming down a bit, only to be surprised by the terrified look on the "Cupid's" face.
"My god, kid, how have you not called the police yet?" she asked bluntly, confused as to why the idea hadn't occurred to him, or why he hadn't acted on it if it had.
"See, I think it might have been my imagination. Since he vanished in seconds, and I hadn't slept well that day, plus I’d had a drink and it was dark... it just makes me think everything mixed together perfectly to create that kind of hallucination," he clarified, looking uncomfortably at his reflection in the coffee cup, where he saw the face of a crazy vagabond who hadn't slept in weeks—though that wasn't far from the truth. "Or maybe I'm just finding out I have schizophrenia, though I doubt it because it hasn't happened again since."
The other woman rolled her eyes with a smile at the possibility, then turned serious when she saw he wasn't joking this time. It did, however, give her an idea of how to respond.
She leaned toward him, wrapping her left arm around his back until she reached his far shoulder to pull him close, while holding her coffee with her other hand.
"You need to see a shrink, little man."
"I don't have the money."
"Damn, so you're crazy and broke? You’ve really hit the jackpot of bad luck," she blurted out, unable to stifle a laugh. Mequot couldn't hide his own smile, gently pushing her away with his hand to get some space and to annoy her enough to make her stop laughing.
"So now I'm the easy target, huh?"
"Oh man... I'm dying," she said, leaning against the table. "I'm sorry, I just had to take the shot... Anyway... if you can't afford a shrink, be your own shrink."
"What?"
"You know! Find yourself a quiet spot to really think things through and relax. I bet you've been so busy lately you haven't even had a moment to breathe."
Mequot began to consider the idea, and it actually sounded quite convincing. It was true that he hadn't had a chance to process everything since it happened; plus, he knew a place where he always went when he had free time to enjoy the atmosphere. It would be the perfect spot to calm down. He checked his watch and saw that dusk was approaching, the perfect time to be there. He stood up from his chair, grabbed his coffee, and said:
"Well, I'm heading out. It's getting late. Thanks for the idea and the coffee; they’ve both helped a lot." He gave a warm smile to the woman still sitting there. As he started to leave, he felt a sudden tug on his arm.
"Wait a second, kid!" she said, making him turn around to look at her in confusion, giving her the chance to continue. "I forgot to ask earlier, but what's your name?"
He stared at her for a few seconds before answering: "Oh, right... My name is Mequot."
"Mequot... What a cute name for such a cute man," she teased, making his face turn bright red. "Everyone calls me Loveshot. It was a pleasure meeting you. If you end up needing that shrink, I might just spend my kids' Christmas present money to pay for one for you."
He didn't reply, knowing it wasn't worth the effort. He rolled his eyes with a smile and waved goodbye. Loveshot did the same, taking the last few sips of her coffee.
After walking for a while, Mequot reached the woods, where he slipped through some bushes to make his way onto a small dirt path. Following the trail, he found the spot he was looking for.
A field of massive flowers next to a small waterfall opened up before his eyes. He stepped off the path, breathing in the fresh nature air. He searched for a spot near the waterfall that also offered a view of the sunset, finding it among some white flowers, which he carefully moved aside so as not to crush them.
Mequot couldn't lie; he felt like he was in paradise. The tranquility of the woods, combined with natural sounds like the rushing water, created a sort of relaxing harmony for his ears. Between that and how comfortable the grass felt, he could have fallen asleep right then and there. Instead, he began doing what he had actually planned to do: he closed his eyes.
He could already guess the reason why he'd had that hallucination; the whole situation reminded him of something that happened when he was a kid. Some children were playing knights and came up with the brilliant idea of chasing him with swords. One of them was much sharper than usual, just like the one he saw that night. Only that time, they actually got him, leaving a gash on his arm; when they saw the blood, they ran away, terrified of getting in trouble. That wasn't the only time he’d been left with marks, but it was one of the deepest he’d ever had. It was possible that this unpleasant memory had affected his head enough to project a similar image, only three times worse. Besides, now that he thought about it, the proportions of that figure were too exaggerated; realistically, it was very unlikely for someone to be that tall...
"Anyway, it's just stuff in my head," he finally told himself, and for some reason, saying it felt like a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a beautiful landscape of stars—some smaller than others, with the moon standing prominently among them, looking somehow like a mother watching over her young. He stood up, feeling a bit lightheaded from moving too fast, and carefully walked back toward the trail, making sure not to step on too many flowers.
For some reason, the atmosphere felt strangely still. He couldn't hear any specific animal sounds, though he figured they were probably just asleep. Suddenly, something scurried past his feet and began to climb a tree, letting out a tiny "squeak" as it did. He found the little sound adorable and started scanning the trees for the squirrel, until...
He saw its leg, broken and twisted.
Mequot jumped back at the sight, startled. He wanted to move closer to help it, but before he could do anything, he heard another noise behind him. He looked back and noticed that on the ground, there was... blood?
A sharp sting began to flare in his back, until it pierced through him completely, puncturing his stomach, making the acid fluid began to leak out, though more slowly than the blood from the wound, which sprayed across the surrounding trees and pooled heavily on the ground. He began to feel lightheaded, coughing up blood as his legs gave out. He fell to his knees before collapsing entirely onto the forest floor, still feeling the weapon embedded deep inside him. He began to bleed out, and the constant coughing of blood made it impossible to cry for help. All he could do was watch as the landscape slowly blurred, noticing in the background other animals lying on the ground with the same puncture wounds, motionless. He feared it was life’s way of foreshadowing exactly what was happening to him. He heard footsteps in the distance—calm, steady steps, as if the person didn't care at all about having just murdered someone and leaving them for dead in the woods.
Bit by bit, our protagonist stopped thinking, stopped seeing, stopped smelling, and stopped hearing. Everything simply went out; it all turned to black.
...
It seems his hallucination wasn't as much of a fantasy as he had thought.