Hello theinkwell world, to give continuity to this exciting challenge of theinkwell, I leave you with this brief story, which shows what the night sometimes leaves us.
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I KNOW YOU, FROM SOMEWHERE
In his office, the elderly doctor, an expert in chronic diseases, rose from his seat to accompany his last patient of the day to the door of his office, saying goodbye with kindness.
After repeated expressions of gratitude from his patient, the doctor returned to his seat, he had a little pain in his chest, slight dyspnea; he took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead and from his fogged glasses, with his white handkerchief.
Calmly, he took his pulse, measured his blood pressure, and looked for some blood pressure pills in his desk drawer; found that next to them was a 21 year old bottle of whiskey, special reserve, along with some short glass glasses.
He had forgotten they were there; they were a gift from one of his patients and best friend. He kept it with the promise of toasting with him, for his recovery from lung cancer, which by then was affecting his friend; he never got over it, and that bottle remained in the drawer waiting for a good reason to open it.
The doctor stared at the bottle, thinking, as when he has to make an important decision; he looked up at the ceiling, and said:
For you my friend, as you well know, wherever you are... it is never too late to toast!
He opened the bottle, poured himself a drink, and took it slowly, savoring it sip by sip, wrapped in his thoughts, looking into the distance as the twilight gave way to the of the night, filling the silhouette of the city with light and shadow, through the half-opened blinds of the window of his office.
The pain in his chest, which persisted with variations in intensity, he looked at the phone and remembered that he had no one to call. He had been a widower for a year, with his only son living abroad, immersed in his own problems and no time for a greeting.
The last sip was over, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a reflection of a woman's silhouette, partially covered by a veil, in the window, it seemed familiar to him, when he decided to look directly at the window, the figure was no longer there.
He felt a bit of nostalgia, pensive; fleeting, a wave of memories wandered through some happy moments of his life. Convinced of what was to come, he poured himself another drink, arranged his glasses, took the elegant pen from his pocket and wrote:
I KNOW YOU, FROM SOMEWHERE
Hi, I know you, from somewhere, I've seen you and I know you've seen me too, we've crossed paths. I have the impression that you are ignoring me, but you know about me, you know well who I am, what things I do, what work I have.
I know about you, I have seen the fruits of your passage, I deal with them daily, in your mission, you carry sadness, and you take away the breath of those who now I must give them comfort.
You steal the hopes; you steal the dreams that are your greatest effect.
It seems that I fight against you, that illusion, is also your game; last night on the way to work I saw you different, you crossed my path, you entered my mind.
Today you saw me directly in the eyes, your pale face, you made a smiling face.
You know well what you want, today I recognized you, I know who you are and you come for me, I know, nothing stops you now.
After a last and prolonged pain, the elegant pen, detached from his already inert hand, rolled down the desk, until almost falling.
The lights of the night and those of the vehicles that moved along the street, played between the blinds of the office window, little by little they gave way to the lights of dawn... the rest, would only be a sad, solitary, silent finding of this last night in the time of that kind doctor, expert in chronic diseases.
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Thanks for reading me
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I KNOW YOU, FROM SOMEWHERE, is a short story of my creation.
Ramses O Perez G, Doctor, occasional writer of light narrative