As the harsh sunlight filtered in through the window, Luka carefully folded the shirt in his hand, carefully inspecting the threadbare seam that threatened to become unraveled if he handled it with too much force. His movements were smooth and methodical, an attempt to avoid any potential damage - even if it had become a useless gesture, considering that all of the garments in the closet looked like they had been ravaged by a particularly destructive animal.
Luka carefully returned the shirt to its proper position, brushing the creases out before hanging it up. Then he moved on to the pair of dark jeans, carefully examining the hole in the knee, just above his kneecap. The denim fabric stretched and sagged as if ready to rip at the slightest tear. His movements were almost mechanical, a result of years of practice - and a fear of making a mistake, knowing that any further damage, no matter how small it is, would result in a beating.
As he examined each garment with a critical eye, memories from the previous nights flooded back, all vivid, painful, and accurate. He could feel the sting of the fresh bruises, the sting of the hot tears, and the ache of his broken spirit. He knew it was pointless to put off the inevitable. He would face his demon once more - as he had every other night, each time more devastating than the last.
As night fell on his small town, Luka slipped out through the back door, taking care not to wake the other occupants in the cramped house. The dark windows and curtains of the neighbors' homes were wholly shut, shielding him from any prying eyes. It felt as though the streets and alleyways were empty as if he were wandering through a world that only existed in an eerie, timeless place between dusk and dawn.
He knew better than to rush the process. Each step took a tremendous amount of effort, a simple movement that seemed to weigh him down. Each footfall seemed to echo against the deserted facades of the old brick houses, which were dark and foreboding in the dim light of the moon. His heart pounded out of his chest, and his breathing came quick and shallow - though he knew that none of this was physical. He was exhausted after a lifetime of enduring pain and strife, and all of the weight of the world still seemed to rest on his fragile shoulders.
And yet he continued to put one foot in front of the other until he reached his destination. A small, hole-in-the-wall diner sat on the edge of town. It was the only restaurant open at this hour, and his stomach twisted in knots at the thought of another sleepless night, his only company was the incessant buzz of insects and the howl of the wind. As he stepped through the door, it shut with a loud THUNK, and the warm air hit him, bringing back some semblance of comfort, if briefly.
He slowly made his way over to the counter, his head down as his hands clutched the thin material of his jacket, willing himself not to break down. The diner was mostly empty, though there was a man seated in the corner booth, hunched over a notebook. The man barely seemed to notice the new arrival, absorbed in whatever it was that he was writing.
As the night drew on, Luka watched the stars fade out of the night sky, giving way to the grey hues of the early morning light. He watched as the man, still hunched in his corner booth, stood up and slowly made his way toward the counter, his notebook still under his arm.
As the stranger approached the counter, Luka couldn't help but notice how thin and pale he looked - as if he'd suffered from years of neglect. The man's face was lined with deep wrinkles, despite his relatively younger appearance.
"Hello young man," the man said
Startled at the stranger's greeting. He turned to meet the man's gaze, noticing the deep lines of fatigue, as if the weight of the world had been placed upon his shoulders. But despite his weary disposition, the man's gaze was warm and sincere.
"Hello, sir...."Luka murmured in response. He wasn't one for small talk, and it felt odd to be greeted with such kindness, especially after all he had been through. His head was still clouded and frazzled from the events of the previous night, and he struggled to string together a proper sentence.
The man nodded with understanding as if recognizing the internal conflict that was raging within Luka. After a moment's pause, he looked down at the notebook still under his arm, before raising up his gaze again.
"What can I get you, dear?" He asked, his voice husky and gravelly, but still kind and gentle. It sounded like he had spent years smoking and drinking, but there was no malice or resentment in his tone. He was simply asking a question.
"...I have no money, so that would be a no thank you.." Luka replied.
"No problem, no problem," the man said back, his tone unaffected and nonchalant. He turned to the menu behind the counter, then looked back at Luka.
"You can have anything you like.... on the house." He paused, then smiled at Luka's surprised look. "It's an old restaurant tradition - to feed those who cannot afford to eat."
The man turned away as if trying to downplay the significance of his offer. "We don't like to see people going hungry," he murmured.
"but-" Luka was about to reply back before he could finish his words, the old man raised his hand, stopping Luka's sentence.
"No buts. I don't stand to see a young chap like you go without eating. You're nothing but bones, dear, it worries me to see you in this condition."
The man stepped behind the counter and set down his notebook, before reaching under and pulling out a plate of food. It looked like a simple meal, but it appeared to be hearty and filling. It was precisely the kind of food that Luka needed after so many nights of empty stomachs.
"Here you go, dear. It's nothing special, but I assure you it'll fill you up!" The man handed Luka the plate of food with a smile. It seemed like he was speaking from experience as if he knew what it was like to have gone without food.
Luka took the plate with numb hands, feeling overwhelmed by the kind gesture - and the food looked like a small miracle. He slowly picked up a piece of bread and took a tentative bite. The taste was simple, but it tasted like something from heaven.
As he slowly ate the piece of bread, Luka felt a surge of emotions, almost like an explosion. It felt like all of the months of exhaustion, suffering, and despair were being channeled into a single moment, the feeling of the bread in his mouth like an eruption of pure joy and euphoria.
It was like a switch suddenly flipped inside of him. His face started to feel warm, his hands stopped shaking, and the constant tension in his shoulders finally started to unravel. It was like the weight was finally lifting off of his body, and for the first time in so long, he felt like he could finally breathe.
A single tear streamed down his cheek as he continued to devour the food, tasting every bite and savoring every second of it. Every fiber of his being felt rejuvenated as if the warm and comforting sensation of food had the ability to heal something deep within himself.
He had forgotten how good food could taste, and how good it felt to eat with a satisfied and content heart. After so many months of pain, it felt like his entire life was changing for the better - with only a few bites.
As Luka slowly finished his meal, he realized that his body felt like it was finally waking up. The constant aches and pains that he had become so accustomed to over the years were slowly starting to fade away, and he could actually feel himself becoming more energized. The food had done more than fill his tummy, it had filled him with hope and purpose for the future.
But it still felt like he was missing something. His gaze met the birds chirping outside the glass window in the warm sun rays.
A part of the puzzle was still incomplete. What was it? He turned his focus to the new task ahead. His life was about to start a new chapter, and it begins… in the next chapter.
