It was dark. The only thing that tried to fight the darkness was the old headlamp on the street.
It was London around 1890. Grey city, sad as a tombstone, and with the smell of danger hang over the facades of the houses.
John tasted the fear in his mouth and felt that the end wasn’t too far.
Rats. Thousands of rats. Some of them were feasting on a dead horse and all the others were moving towards him. He run fast…very fast but at the corner of Hill Street he fell. The rats were approaching him and his death was inevitable.
And then he woke up. It was a dream, a bad dream…
He checked his wrist and the oversized Panerai was saying 6:30am.
He sneaked through the curtains outside of his window and the fog hovered between the houses of this big city, the mist was like intense dreaming seeking for the sun to end it.
He couldn’t see anything. Something wasn’t right today.
John couldn’t remember anything of his last night and he definitely didn’t wanted to wake up the girl in his double bed. He couldn’t. But who was she?
A girl so beautiful, that her body under the bed sheets was producing an enormous amount of awe.
She was fragile and John knew it.
He wore his two button black suit and his white shirt and grabbed the keys of his beloved old black Maserati Quattroporte.
When he stepped out of his building nothing was the same.
The silence was so intense like a myriad of orchestras just waiting for the maestro’s signal to begin.
Only that today there wasn’t any.
Next, he did the same exact thing he was doing every morning. Get in the car and start the engine. He turned the key and the cd from last night started to play: Arvo Paart – Spiegel Im Spiegel.
He checked briefly the retro leaf shaped clock of the Maserati and the time has stopped at 11:59pm.
And then….. HE REMEMBERED!!!
…to be continued