The Man

Dim, diffuse light shimmers above a clad piano cover as the harmonious tunes hush the anxious atmosphere. My quivering legs stumble towards the nearest seat, and I give in to my fatigue, falling sideways into the cushions. My battered lungs lay relaxed with a sigh. At last,.. Rest. I roll around and recline for a moment’s peace, knowing the devil awaits me out in the cold streets. I can picture him now, at the front entrance, looking at his watch and counting the minutes.That fiend just won’t give me a break. But that is ok. I am here. This is right…

In this suspended calm, I see many people: some sit down and soak in the moment, others walk by to catch a glimpse before finding the exit and taking flight. No more than the average visitor that treads these foot-stamped carpets am I, or any man for that matter. But here I behold an anomaly of a man of whom I thought nothing at first until he looked my way. He hooks me in his gaze and shifts his winds towards me. Anxious, I sit upright in my seat.

Without a word, he seizes the chair beside me and asks, “What are you doing here again?”

A million and one thoughts run through my mind, I grimace skeptically. “What do you mean, ‘here again’? Have you been watching me? Am I supposed to know what you mean, because this is the first time I’ve seen you?” I doubt every word as it falls from my lips. There is a sense of familiarity lingering in my head, but I shake it off.

His expression remains serious, sorrowful even. He stares through me. “I thought you were better than this; I know you are better than this.”

My stomach knots and my fists clench. I perceive him for the challenger that he is, so I raise my defense. “Leave me  alone!” I tell him, “Day in, day out, I am struggling; I am fighting for what I love. Can’t I be afforded one or two days out of the week to come here?” I pause for a minute to temper my thumping heart… “I am tired.” I tell him. My words bend under the weight of my breath.

“Aren’t they wondering where you are?” he inquires of me.

I nod, “Regardless,… I am a working man. I am still in the right.”

“Not necessarily” He objects.

My doubtful gaze questions him.

“If you eat in celebration of achieving your weight loss you are undoing your work. It is the same with what you are doing now. You are digging up the seeds you’ve laboriously sown. You are dying inside. Why can’t you save yourself?” 

He holds out his hands, and as I see them, rivers stream down my cheeks. I realize who the man really is.

“I’m sorry!” I sob, “I won’t do it again!”

“You will.” He assures me, “You never keep your word to me.”

His eyes shoot up up over my shoulder and I turn to behold the devil resetting his watch. “Thirty-two hours, eleven minutes… Not bad!” He comments with a nefarious grin. “‘Till next time…”