A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
*****
Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Blake-
"It means you are Antoni Woźniak."
Silence fell into the room. Of course, I had known what it meant, but I guess I didn't want to hear it. I wasn't ready to hear it. But now, it was said, but instead of relief or happiness or even disbelief, I felt nothing.
"I'm sorry... I need more time..."
That was all I could say.
"It's all right, sweetheart," Julia murmured sympathetically. "You take as much time as you need. Everyone will understand."
I stepped away from the door, nodding at Julia. I felt numb. I had tried to embrace myself for the news, but I clearly hadn't been ready for this.
"You have nothing to worry about," Julia promised. "I'll deal with this. You... Just... Don't worry about it. Nothing will change if you don't want it."
"Thanks..." I muttered.
She smiled at me. I felt bad for not being able to say much else. Her smile turned sad just before she turned around and walked back downstairs. I stared after her, still unable to feel a thing. I probably would've stayed there for much longer if Jordan hadn't placed a hand on my shoulder, making me look at him.
"Are you all right?" he asked, and I shrugged. "It's all right if you're not."
I shrugged again.
"We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to," he spoke soothingly. "I know this is a lot to take in, but this is not a bad thing."
"I guess..."
He let out a breath and tried to smile, but the worry was clear in his eyes. "Come... I'll make us tea."
"Sure..." I mumbled, and was about to follow him into the kitchen, but something caught my eye, so I turned around.
I was immediately faced by my own image. The man in Jordan's painting was staring at me in the corner, and for a short moment, I didn't recognize him as me. It wasn't Blake Smith that looked back at me. It was Antoni, a guy with the last name I couldn't even pronounce.
Without even realizing it, I made my way to it, and stopped to stare at my own face.
"Baby?"
I peered at Jordan, but then turned to stare at the painting again.
"I should be happy," I muttered. "I know I should, but..."
"This is a very complicated situation. It's completely normal for the emotions to be complicated as well," Jordan spoke quietly, touching my hand lightly.
"I don't know how to feel," I admitted. "What am I even supposed to do with that information? That I'm this... This... Polish guy?"
"We have all the time in the world to figure that out," he said gently. "And Mom is right, nothing has to change if that's what you want."
