Crisp air and gentle breeze forced itself into the freshly cleaned flat. It was bringing in the smell of an early autumn. A faint sensation of an upcoming rain mixed with the notes of freshly cut grass and the slightly coloured - soon to fall - leaves. It was crispy and gloomy enough to anticipate mid-October, yet somehow still warm in reflection to usual seasonal temperatures illustrated by cheerful laughter and echoes of a bouncing ball whilst - one could vividly imagine - lightly clothed youngsters ran through the court in cheeky attempts to score yet another goal.
Cars were rushing past as distant strangers urged back home - shower, family dinner, casual talks over tea and painless scrolling through social media whilst vegetating in front of Netflix, HBO - or whatever their current obsession might be. The evening was falling upon the city - it shall soon be covered under its thick starry mantle. And the fresh air rustling through the impeccable cleanliness of the rooms starts to bring its chill. It will eventually bite Lina’s toes and her barefoot self will waltz through the oak floors - towards the open windows. “Clack, clack” - one by one they are finally closed.
She is alone yet again.
Coffee mugs and fluffy blankets got tidied away. Books and magazines - instead of being scattered on the living room table - were finally hidden in shelves and drawers. Not a single speck of dust could be found - perfectly clean.
Now that the evening was upon us, the rooms became dark and odd shadows flickered in the candlelights. A thin snake of smoke slithered itself towards the ceiling. “Forest” - her favourite incense, filled in the lungs and lulled the house into serenity.
And a sense of serenity it was.
Pampering baths and nourishing masks. She meticulously applied her makeup and spared no effort in arranging her hair. Extra silky, well straightened… She fished out her special jewellery - for occasions only - and slipped into the most beautiful - favourite, of course - black dress. Stockings for a better look. The best - or the most expensive and ridiculously uncomfortable - pair of heels.
The young woman glanced at her perfectly manicured nails, carefully evaluating if the intense cleaning session prior that day caused any damage, and curled a satisfied grin. Still intact. Still perfect.
A generous spray of Chanel “Chance” and she is finally ready.
“This is perfect,” she mutters to the reflection in the mirror. “This is exactly how I want it”.
A young woman - maybe twenty or twenty-three - looks back at her. Green eyes carefully evaluated chocolate brown hair cascading down her body. A tall slim figure wrapped in a gorgeous black dress. She pinched her cheeks to give it a bit of red. The final note - a gentle touch of lipstick. Brick brown or brick red - she wasn’t sure. Nor that it mattered.
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“Yes, this is exactly how I want it,” a last glance and a confident turn - in those fancy heels - she was waltzing towards the kitchen.
Red wine generously poured itself into the glass. She savoured the rich fruity smell whilst inhaling the music filling the Void of her house - Ziegler always touched the depths of her soul…
A sensory indulgence - candlelights, her favourite music, the rich taste of red wine, the smell of “Forest” and wooden floors cracking below her feet. “This is how I want it,” said to herself. “Freedom is to live on my terms and to leave on my own accord as well. This is how I want it.”
Later - seconds or minutes, hours or eternities, who could possibly tell? - the world began to spin. If she had danced - but did she? - or if she had cried - she wasn’t sure - sensations slipped away.
Fever spread through the vessels, numbing the body, yet bringing up the last kick of Life - all at once. If Life is a comedy, then Death serves as a tragedy - or so most humans believe, - she thought. If Life is but a tragedy, might as well ensure Death is a happier occasion. At least for once, I get to choose the genre.
Another glass of wine as she waltzed through the rooms soaking each and every corner of her beloved house. Beautiful candles flickered as the young woman floated past them. Familiar music hugged her tired - exhausted even - body. She shot a glance through the window - possibly the last one - and slowly faded into the depths of the living room.
As she comfortably lay down on the deep-red chaise longue - it was the most dysfunctional yet incredibly adored piece of furniture in the house - Lina took a look around the living room.
Tall bookshelves were climbing towards the ceiling. A gorgeous fireplace crowned with a massive mirror. A second-hand leather sofa she proudly found as a bargain. Tall - no, massive - arched windows adorned by jacquard fabrics fell from heavy metallic curtain holders above. A few other pieces of furniture and elegant floor lamps stretched close to the coffee table, just in front of Lina.
The very last few sips of wine and she saw her hand extending towards the table placing the glass on top.
Her being fading - Is the glass on the table? - and music filling her lungs with the smell of autumn breeze. Incense carrying warm sensations of flickering candle lights. Wooden floors anticipating to crack, waiting for a lost soul to yet again wander through the labyrinths of her Life.
When the candles finished burning away, her consciousness had already slipped into the abyss. It would take hours or possibly a couple of days for someone - anyone - to find the half-empty bottle of wine generously infused with sleeping pills. As well as the very few words Lina had written before her departure.
Make no mistake: this is exactly how she wanted. Leaving on her terms and finally going to rest in peace.
But there is no peace. For peace is but an unattainable luxury for sinners who abandon themselves.