That house

I don’t remember that house at all. A blurry picture of equally blurry memories. Early morning, dawn, dust floating in the light. I only remember the doorstep, and even then, it feels like I’m looking at it from a distance: I am standing on the threshold, and he is sitting at my feet. When someone sits at your feet, begging you not to leave, it’s not worth being harsh with them. No matter how many voices argue in your mind, it’s better to pat them on the head, smile, and gently say, “don’t worry, everything’s fine.” That would probably be so sweet. A tender and pleasant story of how we save each other from loneliness. Although I don’t remember ever thinking about anyone but myself. Loneliness is simply a choice, and I have always made mine, no matter who was sitting in front of me. So at that moment, on the doorstep, I didn’t touch his hair or say anything. I didn’t even try to remember the house — I won’t come back here, so what’s the point? I am still not the person with whom his loneliness will dissolve in love and understanding. And he shouldn’t be mad at me either because there were never any promises between us. Why hope for something that was never spoken of? In that moment, when he held onto my feet and muttered something about his mother and childhood, I stood still, with my hand on the door handle. I have never signed up for charity work, but it would have been utterly heartless to simply turn away and leave, without even listening to this plaintive story of childhood traumas. As if to say, I’m not interested in your psychological problems. As if to say, I don’t need your heart or your opinion. It just happens — not at the right time, not in the right place. Not the right people. We just happened to come across each other, and if it was a way for me to briefly escape, it blew the roof off his life. That day, however, I managed to muster something that resembled support. I didn’t remember the house, didn’t remember the way to it, because he still walked me to the bus stop. I didn’t even care which street it was on. Early morning, meaningless glances. And we said goodbye.