Status: Done
The Stopwatch
Two
Her noisy heels contrasted with his mute sneakers. An acute observer would’ve noticed him keeping a 10 feet distance even when she sped up or slowed down. Acute observers, however, weren’t available to watch over those 4 blocks on that particular evening. They never are in these kinds of occasions. Their fate seems to be incredibly coward for they always disappear when they’re needed. Being somewhat popular, Nadia enjoyed the alone time this walk provided. People can overload anybody easily. How does each handle it is a different story.
One that Mr. Bjorman likes to tell in quite a particular way. According to plan, in about 1 minute and 28 seconds, they will be turning right into an alley with no windows and only a service door for a ruined Chinese restaurant. Dustbins and a half-standing brick wall protected the alley from distant watchers and the sole gloom of it would keep apart curious walkers. He had recently discovered that squinting every 10 seconds would keep him from blinking for about 5 minutes straight. Which was really useful. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself if she would’ve escaped through one of those loopholes in consciousness. A man of his condition does not admit flaws. If everything is countable, there’s no room for mistake. Only an ice-cold perfection was welcome to live in his world.
They shift over the concrete tiles each with their own form of indifference. One unknowing, one uncaring. This wouldn’t be the first time for Michael Bjorman. He slept over his old stopwatch one day and had to buy a new one so he could resume his work. He didn’t choose Nadia because she was weak, or alone in the evenings. He chose her because she was there. That was it. Just like somebody may go to the grocery store and grab the first orange one sees. He saw no life in her, just a vessel for his frustration.
If someone would ask him “Why?” he would most certainly respond “Why not?” in a voice so chilling it would make the most daring inquirer recoil back into the chair terrorized.
The alley was long and he would have time to sprint to her before she noticed and ran to the avenue. It would have to be a sprint for the stopwatch beeped when activated, and at that time she would surely notice something behind her. Ten seconds for the corner. He took one long breath minding not to exhale too loudly and tightened his mouth. Some more footsteps. Six, five, four. He was ready before time was. Three, two. She made a right. One.
He hid behind a dustbin for a second and sneaked behind her keeping a 5 feet distance. He reached into his pocket and took his stands. Ready. He pressed the button. Set. A distinct beep in the peace of the cold aura of the afternoon.
Go.
She turned around and took a step back. In about 3 steps he had reached her. Too confused too scream until it was too late, Nadia fell helpless into the black puddles that adorned the loose stones of the lane. He put his hand over his mouth to drown the sound. Then he accommodated for the rest of the labour. He blocked her arms by spreading them and kneeling on top of them. Then he cracked his knuckles and wrapped both hands around her neck.
None of them could know this but whoever was in charge of the world didn’t seem to care much for Nadia Foster’s plans of living. There wasn’t a soul hovering the sidewalks in about 2 blocks around at the time. This would’ve made Michael irrevocably happy and proud of himself, or at least as much of those as a half-machine can feel. But this was never revealed to them. They had both trusted their luck that evening, and when you face somebody on a coin toss, someone ends up losing.
Wind blew distant caressing the walls of the buildings as brief choking sounds emerged from the pavement. Softly, her eyes clouded over each time threatening to black out. She knew if they did, that would be it. But she was also almost certain that no one would come and save her. How foolish of her to think some hours before that luck was on her side because there wasn’t any rain to be spilled that day.
At some point these thoughts abstracted her enough to stop fighting and set her neck muscles loose. She just laid there dreaming. Dreaming about what was and hadn’t been, and condemning her own lack of vision. Then it was all too easy. He could even stop using all his strength, he would just finish this swiftly pondering about how fulfilled he was. No worries. By 6:14 with 56 seconds of dusk, Nadia Foster was doomed.
One that Mr. Bjorman likes to tell in quite a particular way. According to plan, in about 1 minute and 28 seconds, they will be turning right into an alley with no windows and only a service door for a ruined Chinese restaurant. Dustbins and a half-standing brick wall protected the alley from distant watchers and the sole gloom of it would keep apart curious walkers. He had recently discovered that squinting every 10 seconds would keep him from blinking for about 5 minutes straight. Which was really useful. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself if she would’ve escaped through one of those loopholes in consciousness. A man of his condition does not admit flaws. If everything is countable, there’s no room for mistake. Only an ice-cold perfection was welcome to live in his world.
They shift over the concrete tiles each with their own form of indifference. One unknowing, one uncaring. This wouldn’t be the first time for Michael Bjorman. He slept over his old stopwatch one day and had to buy a new one so he could resume his work. He didn’t choose Nadia because she was weak, or alone in the evenings. He chose her because she was there. That was it. Just like somebody may go to the grocery store and grab the first orange one sees. He saw no life in her, just a vessel for his frustration.
If someone would ask him “Why?” he would most certainly respond “Why not?” in a voice so chilling it would make the most daring inquirer recoil back into the chair terrorized.
The alley was long and he would have time to sprint to her before she noticed and ran to the avenue. It would have to be a sprint for the stopwatch beeped when activated, and at that time she would surely notice something behind her. Ten seconds for the corner. He took one long breath minding not to exhale too loudly and tightened his mouth. Some more footsteps. Six, five, four. He was ready before time was. Three, two. She made a right. One.
He hid behind a dustbin for a second and sneaked behind her keeping a 5 feet distance. He reached into his pocket and took his stands. Ready. He pressed the button. Set. A distinct beep in the peace of the cold aura of the afternoon.
Go.
She turned around and took a step back. In about 3 steps he had reached her. Too confused too scream until it was too late, Nadia fell helpless into the black puddles that adorned the loose stones of the lane. He put his hand over his mouth to drown the sound. Then he accommodated for the rest of the labour. He blocked her arms by spreading them and kneeling on top of them. Then he cracked his knuckles and wrapped both hands around her neck.
None of them could know this but whoever was in charge of the world didn’t seem to care much for Nadia Foster’s plans of living. There wasn’t a soul hovering the sidewalks in about 2 blocks around at the time. This would’ve made Michael irrevocably happy and proud of himself, or at least as much of those as a half-machine can feel. But this was never revealed to them. They had both trusted their luck that evening, and when you face somebody on a coin toss, someone ends up losing.
Wind blew distant caressing the walls of the buildings as brief choking sounds emerged from the pavement. Softly, her eyes clouded over each time threatening to black out. She knew if they did, that would be it. But she was also almost certain that no one would come and save her. How foolish of her to think some hours before that luck was on her side because there wasn’t any rain to be spilled that day.
At some point these thoughts abstracted her enough to stop fighting and set her neck muscles loose. She just laid there dreaming. Dreaming about what was and hadn’t been, and condemning her own lack of vision. Then it was all too easy. He could even stop using all his strength, he would just finish this swiftly pondering about how fulfilled he was. No worries. By 6:14 with 56 seconds of dusk, Nadia Foster was doomed.