on solitude, neighbours and love

and then, out of the blue, someone knocks on my door. Just when the silence was granted after a two-hours long surprise birthday party thrown to some annoying neighbour on the flat right below mine with “happy birthday” tunes, karaoke songs and guitar playing a-la boy scout included.
After one of the worst days at job in my personal and, maybe, even in general human history. After more than nine hours arguing with an incompetent manager unable to understand that things can be, and most times must be, done differently from what it says on the corporation guide. After dealing with an stressful traffic jam exactly five yards further from where I was involved in yesterday’s traffic jam. After a disgusting out of date can of value baked beans (the last eatable item in my holocaustic kitchen) served with the cheapest fish cakes ever made by a human hand designed with genetically modified products that had hardly any resemblance to the taste of fish. After a day scarily too similar to yesterday, to the day before that, to each one of my days in the last fortnight. Since she left me. Since she crossed the door and never came back. After countless excuses to avoid a much justified and, probably, desserved, suicide to put an end to this absurd life. After everything I have already been through, someone knocks on my door.
Blinded by desperation, concealed hate and dejected will, I can’t even wait to unveil the identity of the person behind the red-painted wooden-made door to grab a defiant kitchen knife which I will use to threaten the undesired visitor with. To scare away the brave, shameless subject that dares to disturb me in such a distressing night.
Armed with the cutting piece of cutlery held above my head in a “ready to attack” pose, masking my face with my most aggressive gesture, abruptly, enraged, I open the door.
And she is there.
With a smile on her lips. With an “I’m ready to apologize” attitude. With an “I’ll love you forever” open heart. With a “we are meant to be together” look in her eyes.
And I, lost in the joy of my recovered love, on the engaging happiness of her return to me, throw my body to her in the most tender, most love-charged, most satisfactory of the embraces. And I kiss her all over the face and the neck. And I swear to her my perpetual love and my vehement engagement till death do us part, forgetting about the killing knife in my now red right hand, ignoring that death has already separated us.

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