ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕁𝕒𝕞

The elevator rose silently. Nothing could be seen behind its blind doors. Only a slight jolt of braking indicated that the body was not constrained by free flight, and the silence around it was not a booming vacuum.

There was something symbolic about this daily climb up. It was as if all the worldly worries, fuss, and annoying people were down there. But up here, there's only home, wide glass windows, a huge city under feet. It sparkles, shimmers and suffocates with yellow lights, as if trying to prolong the last spasms of agony a little more. To make people pay attention to themselves. Before it finally fades away by midnight.

Up here, a good wine in an expensive glass, a new book on the coffee table, and a cat curled up in a warm, soft ball on lap had been waiting for a long time. 

The doors slide open with a thud, revealing a short hallway.

At the end of it, beyond the last barrier in the face of the front door, darkness swirls. Each time, she spreads into an impenetrable and vast nothingness, caressing his feet. She crouches low like an animal. She throws himself on his shoulders, scratches his back in desperate attempts to get under him. 

But he was used to never sending her away. Do not turn on the lights, do not open the curtains in the morning. In the semi-darkness of the wall lamps, it is easy to tie a tie, choose a jacket. Stack up your tired reports in a growing stack. Pat the cat on the head before going to work and throw her a ball of yarn. Remain a shadow, depersonalize yourself and think about reputation.

This habitual way of life has long been firmly ingrained in the subcortex of consciousness. He doesn't need conscious actions, simple inertia is enough. Just the driving force of endless everyday life.

But even this can sometimes bring surprises. 

A message from a stranger brought him back from his usual routine. Stop, even for a couple of minutes, and delve into the words on the screen.

Perhaps it was a trap, because very soon he discovered that he was looking forward to every lunch break, just to go into another chat and see her name there. He might even agree to start smoking if only he had a reason to sneak out of work a lot more often than he does now. Just to hear that voice one more time.

Just to hear that laugh.

Sonorous, brittle, on the verge of a hysterical note, this laughter easily filled the entire space of his house. He ran up and down the floors, tumbled down the stairs, lingered in the kitchen and immediately returned back to the bedroom, only to put a warm cup of coffee in his hands.

Laughter watched Elizabeth with curious eyes, drew her into games, and blew wisps of white fluff into the air.

More and more often it was necessary to clean suits from wool before going out.

Then the laughter turned into comfort. Soft and enveloping every corner. Clothes for going out, hanging on a hanger in the closet, carefully selected and ironed. Warm breakfast and dinner on the table, soft nightlight and warm hands.

Oh, those hands.

With just their fingers on his temples, they calmed his inflamed mind better than any analgesic. Sliding over the shoulders and back, they relaxed, caressed and warmed the skin unobtrusively. As if that's how it should be. It's like this warmth will never go away. She would remain snoring peacefully by his side, hiding her face in her wrist.

Touching her body was scary. Admittedly, it's still scary. With just one awkward touch, destroy something so fragile and truly beautiful. Elastic curves, soft skin, tremulously trembling eyelashes and quiet breathing. Just the sound of it was enough to drive away all the nightmares.

She's probably still awake.

Waiting for him to come home.

This thought drove him forward, forcing him to open the door wide, nervously and quickly.

Silence fell on him like a crushing hammer.

In the doorway, the familiar darkness was gently flowing down the jamb. A blood-red sunset burns through the curtains, slowly sliding behind the humpback houses.

The man blinked slowly and went inside, slamming the door shut.

After going upstairs, he sat down, without taking off his clothes, on an empty made-up bed.

Somewhere below, a cat quietly dropped a ball from the couch. One.

His wrist covered his tired eyes, trying to soothe the dull, stabbing pain in his temples. 

A saving darkness has descended on the world.