Gemini

The Window

It was dark. Very dark. The air was wet and still. I was totally absorbed by the silence of my solitude, sheltered by those four wooden walls that weren't nearly enough to make that little space a comfortable place. Not that it should have been anyway, it just had to hide me from those people that were hunting me. «Why were they hunting you?» you may ask. Well, it is indeed a good question, and as so it will need an answer just as good.

Let's take a step back and a big breath, my story won't be that short.

-

I was walking absently on the fanciest and most visited street of my city, Andúnë, and it was obviously crowded with masses of tourists that swarmed in and out the shops just as tiny little ants looking for food. I was alone, not big news should I say, with my loyal headphones on, when I happened to take a glance of one of the most trending shops among the guys and girls of my age. Not without regret I had to notice that those cute shoes, green and shocking pink, just as I liked, that I seriously craved to finally complete my mise, had more than doubled their previous price. I sighed and gazed at that little cloud I breathed going up to the sky.

On my way home I jumped from puddle to puddle, the leftovers of the molten snow that had been falling those days, vibing with one of my favourite songs of all time. One of the few things that I always liked in myself was my enormous ability to zone out: I mean, it is no good when you're trying, you know, to study, but I feel like losing yourself into fantastic worlds and fly where everything flows the right way is a great ability indeed, but at the same time it is still a heavy burden, that gets heavier and heavier every time you see that those story you create get shattered one by one, just like a big dominoes of mirrors.

I was just thinking about this when I sadly noticed that I finally got home. I won't annoy you with a tedious description of my house, the most of you probably won't even care. Keeping it short: my house is small, usually warm and always empty.

I never thought to be particularly unlucky, even when I got to know that my parents where killed by a group of drunk guys while they were coming back home.

I had no siblings so that's just me now.

But hey, at the end bad luck only reflects the importance we give her. Maybe that's why I never wanted to get rid of the cracked mirror in front of my bed. I broke it in tears during one of those days when you think not to be enough for the others and yourself, when you feel that you're not loved, one of those days when you realise that at the end you don't have anyone that can lend you a shoulder to cry on or that can encourage you. Nowadays looking at my distorted reflection in that mirror I see a girl that locks her insecurities behind two beautiful eyes (modestly speaking), a light grey and an amber one, that became really good at hiding the soul that lies behind them; I see a frail girl that usually wears oversized clothes not to be mocked by others, that keeps her long brown hair untied to cover her face but that give her a distinctive trait.

I shook my head: «Drop it» I say. «You know very well that this won't make you feel better».

I gave the clock a glance: it was already seven p.m. «I had better start doing something» I thought.

And so, after a few minutes, I was already making a dinner that could be called by that name. «Well, I guess that done it for today, yet I'd like to do something nice tonight. I think a good film will make it».

I watched a cult. It was one of those films so weird that you can't help but laugh every time. A plane, a somehow lethal disease coming by an on-board stock of fish and a former pilot completely unable to have the plane landing.