Calvin arrived in town, and he went straight to the library. It made him slightly queasy to just search her name on one of the computers, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. It alarmed him how easily he took up the role of a stalker. It only worsened as when he found her address after such a rudimentary search. He tried to rationalize that it at least felt good to finally have his final destination narrowed down, but some part of him wished that it had been harder for him to find.
The late afternoon sun streamed into the large main room of the library. Beams of light streamed through the dust, and it seemed to increase the smell of paper and old ink. He had gotten what he came for, yet when he tried to rouse himself to go, it felt like he had been fused to the chair. After all the miles he had traveled, the final stretch felt insurmountable. Not only that, but an earlier trip to the bathroom had confirmed how terrible he looked.
The sunlight stretched into the room, but it stopped short of where Calvin sat. It felt like a bad omen, even the sun wouldn’t touch him. Perhaps it was, but it also gave him the motivation he needed to get up and walk. He moved through the various sections, his eyes passing over the spines of the books, while his mind struggled to process a single word.
After he had stumbled around for about half an hour, he stumbled upon a threadbare couch nestled between two stacks of books. He looked around, but there was no one else around. Even the librarians seemed to have melded into the shelves. Moments after he laid down, sleep pounced. It was a rest that set deep into the marrow of his bones. His mind had strained for so long, that this moment of relaxation put the last crack in the flood gates.
Of the few people who came into the library, only one stumbled upon Calvin. But after looking over his crumpled appearance, the grey-haired woman took him to be a homeless man catching a nap where he could, so she let him be. He slept through the two announcements that the library would be closing soon.
It had closed by the time he woke up. He might have slept there until the next morning if not for the gentle prodding of a janitor who smiled through all of Calvin’s explanations. He clearly cared only as far as it concerned Calvin leaving the building.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He had slept like the dead. Even as he turned the keys in his car and drove away, it felt like a part of his consciousness was left behind, asleep in that warm room that smelled like books and dust. In the space that his splintered mind had left, the vacuum filled with the stirrings of terror. The road ahead was so short now. But he would be saved. He had to be. Or if not, then he wasn’t sure what he would do. It was terror that came from the faint feeling of hope. It was so promising, imagining it all working out, but in reality, he was taking a step out onto the wire. The gaping void beneath him plummeted into a place darker than he could imagine.
Did he have the right to be saved? Probably best not to ask questions like that. Whether he did or not, he was going to ask for it. After all, now, he was ready. Didn’t love trample over these questions of what a person deserved? Love was the catchall, the bottomless wellspring that could swallow up and erase any past failures.
He parked across the street from her place. It was a narrow brownstone. All the lights were off, except for one room on the second floor. The road had been long to get here, but he had arrived. All at once it began to feel too quiet. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear in his silent car, on a street that had turned in for the night several hours ago.
He feared these great absences in sensation. It was easier to sit with himself when the rest of the world ran interference. Without it, the roar grew louder, or maybe it was always there, vibrating at a frequency so low it only could be heard during moments like this. The world took its breath. Now, the car filled with the ringing of his doubt.
The car door clunked open, and it acted like a life preserver thrown to him as his head dipped beneath the surface, and water burned his throat. It pulled him back into the moment, a place where his doubts would only drag him further down.
He needed to avoid the silence, so he took a step out of his car. Soon enough, he was striding right toward the large wooden door. It looked like solid wood, stained to an austere black that reflected the streetlamp in its sheen.
Before he knew it, he was less than a foot away from it. A soft breeze lifted the edges of his jacket, and rustled the bushes that lined the front of the home. No more running. He raised his hand to knock.