Town of the doomed souls

Preface

                                                                                      For Gerhard, my good friend and most patient mentor.                                                                                        May there come time we meet again in some other life.

I write letters, sitting at my desk in my bedroom when the three-day's rain falls outside my window. The weather agrees with me. I've made a right decision. It feels good now when finally I see the end of a stupid play. I see its final titles.

I write letters, put them in the three envelopes and seal them up. It feels so free when you can say everything you wanted for so long.

I'm in a hurry, because my thoughts try to outrun each other, and I'm afraid to forget something. I must explain everything clearly so there would be no questions left. I want my words to be heard this once – this one time of a long-awaited revelation.

And I don't care if they censure me or pity. It doesn't matter for me now as all the way before what others think as long as their minds don't turn to abusive actions. But after my say it would be hard to bring me a new pain, because I would be beyond anyone's reach.

I don't know what is there ahead, I don't know if I meet someone I once knew. However, it does not matter. I've made up my mind, and for once in many years I feel relief, I feel joy, I look forward to the upcoming event and I hurry. Hurry because I'm near my goal more than ever. And the only thing that darkens my elation is fear. Fear that somehow it's all can go wrong.

I am in a hurry to bring my plan to life so that no one has even the smallest opportunity to interfere with it, so that no one can hinder me accidentally or purposely. I have only half an hour. I collect my letters, take my car keys and pass by the mirror in the anteroom. I look at myself. There is nothing new in my face. I see paleness, weariness in the heavy eyelids and peace in the gaze that appeared the very moment the decision was made.

I don't want anybody accuse me of madness because I'm doing it in a lucid mind and in chime with myself. I'm not in a shock nor am I in the heat of passion. My mind isn't hazy with alcohol. I have not taken drugs, psycho tropics or any other rubbish that our world nowadays can plentifully offer. My determination is weighted, circumspect and carried as a cherished child in a mother's womb.

Though nobody can guess I've had time to say goodbye to everybody within those few days. I've seen them all for the last time. I turn away from my face captured for a moment in a carved frame of the wall mirror and it dissolves in its depth. This is the last of my scheduled "Goodbye".

I lock the door behind me, get into my car and start the engine.

The town accompanies me in silence. Nevertheless, I know that somewhere near, intangibly, as a prisoner in some other reality he follows me with the eyes full of pain and despair. He doesn't approve. He condemns me. But he is not able to stop me. He knows he is the one I could never say goodbye to. He knows that my love for him leaves me no choice and that's why he'll forgive me. 

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