Sitting on the boundary between daylight and shadows
Here I am, sitting on the doorstep of a store that it’s closed at this time of the night.
The most suitable time for any sort of criminals: pushers, robbers, killers, thieves.
I’ve just pretended to be one of the fourth kind, but you could seriously be one of the third.
I wouldn’t have been gone after you for all these years if I hadn't had this slight doubt.
My heart is still frantically pounding in my chest and I still have to remind myself how to breathe at regular intervals, because I’ve just met you, a few minutes ago, in that marvelous bookstore you don’t seem to want to give a second life to.
Such a pity, all those precious books, all that warm romanticism in such a cold, digital era!
But let’s not focus on the place, let’s just focus on you.
Beck’s temporary boyfriend, the one almost nobody talked about.
Beck’s quiet boyfriend. Way too quiet.
But I’m not gonna buy it.
This could be the perfect alibi, in case you have killed her.
Which leads me to think you also could have killed Benji, aka Beck’s former boyfriend and Peach, her closest friend.
All this to have total free access to Beck.
I’m getting goosebumps just at the thought of such a terrifying scenario.
This would make you a feral serial killer.
But as long as I don’t have any certainties there will remain just a scary hypothesis, a way too compulsive attitude of mine to play the detective.
I mean… serial killers are not supposed to be so… easy-going and kind, are they?
Okay, you were about to knock me down with an Emily Dickinson’s bust; but, hey, you had every right.
It’s your store and you see someone breaking into it late at night.
I would have done just the same, but, most important, you didn’t.
You confined yourself to staring at me with your big, deep, dark eyes… are they this big even in the pictures I saw? I don’t think so.
And you politely waited for an explanation.
Our little chat… me flooding you with my battle against Capitalism and you… just staring at me with those oh so curious eyes.
I feel like I’ve impressed you. I can’t already bring myself to state that you like me, but something tells me you wouldn’t be so disappointed to see me again.
Also because I have to return your book.
Can’t wait to tell Dominique, Clayton and Phoenix about the big news, the hell with working for the Catering Company that is in charge of the same event the Lockwoods are invited to, only to glance at you at a safe distance.
This is the way to get to really know you and I’m not gonna stop, no matter if they won’t agree.
I can already picture it in my mind: me, breaking into your bookstore once more, but this time showing you that I even sleep there, because I don’t have any other place to go.
And you, a little puzzled and amazed at first, telling me that you could offer me a place to stay.
Because you always feel the need to help and protect.
What if you were just a man who is simply kind, with a huge heart?
What if I had a completely wrong idea about you?
What if Clayton, me and the others were about to make a huge, unforgivable mistake?
Here I am, sitting on the boundary between daylight and shadows, because I don’t know anymore if I want to see you again for the sake of the mission… or just because I really want to see you again.
I mean, there must be a reason why they call you ‘Prince Charming’, now I’m beginning to figure it out. I’m feeling bewitched by you, I don’t even know if this scares the hell out of me or is going to make me more and more drawn by you, like a bee to honey.
Are your honey poisonous, Joe?
Will this bee end up stinging you?
And it’s well known that bees die after stinging.
Maybe this is my fate.
There’s a massive neon sign with the warning ‘CAUTION: very dangerous decision!’ in my brain and I’m deliberately ignoring it.
I’d just better gather all my conflicting thoughts, doubts and feelings, put them in a box in a corner of my mind and go ahead with this mission.
I should also get up from here and reach my friends to inform them, without giving a damn to any wise and prudent advice they’re gonna give me.
Whatever it’s going to happen, next time I see you I’ll have to study the quotes better.
It was ‘mind’, argh! Not ‘head’, stupid Louise!
Although it seems you felt a subtle pleasure in correcting me, after all you have the teacher attitude, you’ve even been a Literature Professor.
I wonder what else could make you feel much more than a subtle pleasure…
No, no, no, Louise, stop doing this!
Geez, I’d better put in the box also my hormones in turmoil, the same as a teenage crush!
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THE END