Never Ending Story

It’s throbbing, racing inside my left chest. It felt as if I had just run for my life, but I didn’t. I just woke up. All I had done previously was lying in my bed, sleeping.

I tried to lie still and caught my breath, but the rapid pulse of my heartbeat drove me restless. I needed to get up and circled around my room. My hands were shaking. My eyes were blinded to my surroundings. I was still drowned in my dream.

Sun had risen up half an hour ago, but my room was still dark like that corner where he pulled me in. I still heard his whispers. I still saw when he walked away.

He had been all around the room that evening, greeting people whom he did not know of. Yet every now and then, from this corner where I was sitting I could see him eyed me and turned away with a soft smile on his lips.

Although I was among those people who knew who he was, but he didn’t know me.

When the event was over, I was leaving. We, no ones, were not required to stay. We were sent by our bosses to participate in the event we had no idea about. We were here just for the sake of having been here – that’s it. I was leaving.

But suddenly when I walked pass that dark corner of the building, I was pulled by a strong hand into the shade. It was him, and I was in his arms. He was smiling at me like a boy who finally got back the toy he had long lost. I looked back into his eyes, trying to look calm. He was charming – everyone would agree to it.

“Your heartbeat is loud”, whispered him giggling. I knew my face turned pale, but I didn’t say anything back.

He tried to look serious, focused back at my eyes, and whispered one more time, “when will we meet again?”.

A group of men calling his name was heard coming our way before I could say anything. “For god’s sake!”, he groaned and walked out into the light.

I was still in that shade when he left.

I never liked when a story didn’t really end – reality or dream. I never liked it when I felt like I needed to wait for something to continue – to put an end to it. Something that, most of the time, never did happen.

It’s still throbbing, racing in my left chest. And I was waiting.

Suggested soundtrack: The Mustard Seed by Hildur Guðnadóttir & Jóhann Jóhannsson.