He knew it the moment she cast her eyes to the floor. So this is how it ends. Five years of longing and this was his reward. The walls of her student flat closed in on him. So drop by if you need anything will you? Yes thanks, I will. She wouldn't. Still no eye-contact. He was grasping for words to delay time, to prevent the seconds from crumbling away, but he couldn't find them. Yesterday he knew them, tomorrow he would.
But now, silence.
He knew that he should leave, that he was making a fool of himself; he had no right to prolong this any longer. But he was rooted to the floor. Then finally he moved, turned and stumbled through the narrow hallway out the door. All right see you, calling over his shoulder. See you. He closed the door behind him and stood in the quiet corridor looking at the whitewashed walls, a silence in his mind.
Later, he sat in his room and stared at the yellow railing of his balcony. He saw the trash outside, rows of windows in the distance. He heard a plane passing overhead. Then another. A toilet flushed in the room above him. Or maybe next-door, he couldn't tell. Someone turned the music up. He told himself he should get up, go to the kitchen, cook a meal. But he didn't. He just stared out the windows till the night settled slowly in a cloudless sky. Then at last he got up, closed the curtains, and lay down to sleep.
The next morning he woke early, got dressed, took the elevator and left the apartment building. In the quiet dawn he slowly walked to the tram stop. Spring should be in the air by now, he thought, but trees shivered in the cold wind and leaves wandered aimlessly across his path. He felt he was forced to learn overnight what would take many a lifetime to master. A solitary black-bird scuddled past as he climbed the steps to the tram-stop.
Sitting in the tram he looked through the smeared windows at the familiar sights: the supermarket, parks and nameless buildings, traffic lights and sidewalks. These had been home to him once, but now seemed immeasurably distant and strange. He slowly nodded off, the world of people and things drifting out of sight. His final stop awoke him. Then on to the train: the fields passing by, trees grey in the morning mist, rivers in the distance, highways winding silently through faded meadows.
Soon he would be home again.
But now, silence.
He knew that he should leave, that he was making a fool of himself; he had no right to prolong this any longer. But he was rooted to the floor. Then finally he moved, turned and stumbled through the narrow hallway out the door. All right see you, calling over his shoulder. See you. He closed the door behind him and stood in the quiet corridor looking at the whitewashed walls, a silence in his mind.
Later, he sat in his room and stared at the yellow railing of his balcony. He saw the trash outside, rows of windows in the distance. He heard a plane passing overhead. Then another. A toilet flushed in the room above him. Or maybe next-door, he couldn't tell. Someone turned the music up. He told himself he should get up, go to the kitchen, cook a meal. But he didn't. He just stared out the windows till the night settled slowly in a cloudless sky. Then at last he got up, closed the curtains, and lay down to sleep.
The next morning he woke early, got dressed, took the elevator and left the apartment building. In the quiet dawn he slowly walked to the tram stop. Spring should be in the air by now, he thought, but trees shivered in the cold wind and leaves wandered aimlessly across his path. He felt he was forced to learn overnight what would take many a lifetime to master. A solitary black-bird scuddled past as he climbed the steps to the tram-stop.
Sitting in the tram he looked through the smeared windows at the familiar sights: the supermarket, parks and nameless buildings, traffic lights and sidewalks. These had been home to him once, but now seemed immeasurably distant and strange. He slowly nodded off, the world of people and things drifting out of sight. His final stop awoke him. Then on to the train: the fields passing by, trees grey in the morning mist, rivers in the distance, highways winding silently through faded meadows.
Soon he would be home again.
