BLOODY CITY

KNOTTED BAG

On this October 5, 1970, the crowing of the rooster, the rush of the neighborhood, and the sun's rays failed to wake Henry up after yet another binge. His sleep was deep, akin to that of a man worn out by life's trials and overwhelmed by the weight of his worries. Even the sounds of daily life seemed powerless to rouse him from his slumber, leaving his body rested but his mind troubled by recent events.

Through the partially open window, the first rays of sunlight gently filtered, softly illuminating the room with a golden glow, but Henry remained motionless, lost in dreamless sleep, far from the realities of the day. Still lying in bed, he lounged in his sheets until he truly became aware of the rapidly advancing hour.

Henry jumped out of bed without much energy. He went through his usual routine in record time and put on a gray pair of pants and a white shirt. His movements were mechanical, devoid of any enthusiasm, as if he were still numb from the trials of the previous day.

Yet, Henry seemed determined to face the day ahead, as if drawing from a reserve of inner strength to overcome the obstacles that lay in his path. The messenger bag swung lightly over his shoulder as he crossed the kitchen, his hand skillfully grabbing a ripe mango before heading towards the door to go to work. His action was almost instinctive, as if seeking simple comfort in the contact with this fresh fruit before plunging into the day ahead.

The turmoil of the previous day and the worries weighing on his shoulders did not deprive Henry of savoring a small moment of pleasure in this simple gesture, a parenthesis of sweetness in the tumult of his life. With the mango in hand, he left the house, ready to face the challenges of the day with the same determined resolve that had driven him so far.

As he walked two streets with a troubled mind, he crossed paths with his neighbor Hugues, who spoke to him about his binge the night before. The description he gave him sent shivers down his spine. The image of his own debauchery suddenly seemed more real to him, and a wave of shame engulfed him.

The confrontation with his own weakness left him disoriented and vulnerable, aware of the weight of his own mistakes in the already heavy burden he carried.
- Listen, Henry ! Life hasn't been kind to you. But so far, you've managed to hold on, said his neighbor Hugues in a gentle voice, adopting a compassionate tone.
Henry hung his head in guilt. His shoulders were slumped under the weight of his shame, his eyes avoiding his ex-father-in-law's gaze, seeking refuge in the ground beneath his feet.

His face was marked by a mixture of sadness and embarrassment, his features drawn by the weight of his remorse. Henry felt like every word spoken by Hugues resonated like a reproach, reviving his own guilt and fueling his inner turmoil.
- Alcohol has never been a good adviser, he continued calmly. We've all been through rough patches; the important thing is to learn from them and overcome our old demons.

Hugues' words resonated with wisdom, underscoring the importance of personal growth and resilience in the face of life's challenges.
- Hugues ! Thank you for those kind words, but I'm in a hurry to get to work, he said, taking out his pocket watch.
- Of course! We'll talk more later, he said, touching Henry's shoulder.
His gesture conveyed empathetic understanding and openness to continue the conversation at another time.

Feeling uncomfortable, Henry muttered a few words of apology before quickly walking away, his gaze avoiding and his heart heavy with remorse. He cut short the conversation as he took the road leading to Balan's convenience store where he had been working for four years. He took another bite of the mango, nodding politely to the neighbors here and there. His action was a mix of automatic politeness and a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy after the awkward incident with Hugues.

His efforts to conceal his unease did not prevent him from feeling the weight of his guilt bearing down on him, making each social interaction a challenge to overcome. But Henry clung to this semblance of daily routine like a lifeline, a fragile attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of his disrupted life.
- Look at his hangover ! exclaimed a neighbor with a mixture of mockery and sympathy.
- He really got hammered yesterday, replied a gossiping neighbor in a whisper.
Her words were tinged with a hint of commiseration mixed with a certain greedy curiosity for the details of the eventful day.
Henry refused to dwell on the eager looks for gossip. The furtive glances everywhere he went did little to improve his mood. The smell of morning coffee accompanied him on the road. The crowing of the rooster, the lowing of the cow, and the chirping of the birds escorted him on his way.