The man breathed in deeply. His eyes were closed. He was focused on his breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. That was all that he was aware of at the moment. He gradually stopped paying attention to his breathing. His body continued to breathe automatically.
His eyes subconsciously struggled to open but he kept them closed. Hw mwaaFWS HIA RWMPLW QIRH HIA Hn. There's something in his mind right now. It's very important. Once it came to him he couldn't stop thinking about it.
It was about a choice. A choice between two options. The choice was final. Once he had made the choice there was no going back. He could never choose the alternative. It would be forever gone.
He was conflicted. The choice is not an easy one. Both were attractive. There was not much distinction between them to make the choice too different. But they were different choices nonetheless.
This was troublesome. A gut feeling told the man that this thought would haunt him for a long time and he would be unable to choose for all of that time. The thought of simply choosing between two options would become an obsession that was unable to extricate from for a long time and he would suffer for it.
This is becoming stressful really quickly, I should not think about it for now, he thought.
He opened his eyes. The small room was dark except the table at the corner where the candle's warm flames kept away the dark. Outside the window was pitch black. He couldn't see through the darkness at all.
The man sat down on the bed.
His vision was drawn back to the window. He looked at the fragile light from the candle's flame and back at the window.
An uncomfortable sensation gripped his chest.
The man held his hands up in front of him and observed them. His hand was shaking and the sweat on his palms was crystal clear in his view.
He couldn't stop the shaking in his hand so he clenched them.
A vague and indistinct thought floated in his mind. Something was right, something that should happen and was anticipated has happened. He didn't know what that thing was. But it was vague and unknown. Everything was confusing.
Based on his observation the time should be in the middle of the night, yet he didn't feel sleepy or fatigued at all.
He had a feeling that things were right, that they should be right. Yet he couldn't help but also feel that something was wrong somehow.
The man looked towards the door. It was a wooden door. Like everything else in the room, it was made out of wood. He then looked at the pillows on the bed.
Should he go to sleep? Or should he not go to sleep? This was another choice to make. But it was a choice without difficulty. He should not go to sleep. Whatever happened sleep was not the choice, it never was. It can't be.
There was nothing else in this small wooden room other than a bed, a table, a window that he couldn't see through, and a door.
Something about the window made him uneasy. The man stood up from the bed and made his way to the table.
On the table was a lit candle. The candle was already halfway through its life. It would not produce light for much longer. A piece of paper sat on the table. It was dusty and old and was already yellow from age.
There was nothing written on the yellow paper.
The man turned the paper to the other side. There was also nothing on the other side of the paper.
Why would a piece of paper survive until old age when it turned yellow if there was nothing of value written on it? A piece of paper had value because there was something written on it. If there was nothing written on it then it would have no value and something of value would have not survived til now. It would have long been discarded or destroyed.
What was he supposed to do with a piece of paper that had nothing written on it?
The man didn't know the purpose of the paper. He didn't know why it was here, or what he should do with it.
The man picked up the paper and moved it towards the candle with his shaking hand.
As his hand neared the flickering flame he felt a painful heat. The man pulled back his hand, but his vision was kept on the flame.
The man plunged the paper into the flame. He grimaced and gritted his teeth as he endured the searing heat.
At last, he could endure no more and let go of his hand from the paper.
The paper turned into ashes as it fell on the table. The table did not catch on fire. No evidence remained that the piece of paper ever existed.
The man turned towards the door. He walked up to it. There was nothing of interest remaining in the room. It was time to leave. The man grabbed the doorknob with his shaking hand. The metallic doorknob was cold. The room was cold. It was only because the bed was near the table that he hadn't felt the cold. If the candle were to go out the whole room would become cold.
The man turned the doorknob with some difficulty. It might be due to its age and lack of maintenance that it didn't smoothly turn. The man pulled open the door.
A cold gust of wind pushed through him. Outside the room was cold and completely dark. He could see nothing but he could feel the cold clinging to his body.
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