Brass door knobs | Benjamin and Jetmir
Ben walked down the narrow cobble lane way with nothing but the sound of traffic coming from what seemed a city far in the distance. The muffled noise being blocked out by the few houses that stood between the quiet lane in which he walked and the ever changing city. Ben hears cries coming from inside homes, but not cries of distress, of which he was use to, but cries of joy, joy of people celebrating being alive.
Ben's journey comes to an end when he reaches a small brick cottage with a black door and brass handle. Ben pulls his hand out of his pocket and reaches for the handle when someone opens the door from inside taking him by surprise. The two pale figures walk Ben and he slips through the crack left over from the door being opened trying to avoid removing his hands until he is comfortably inside. Once inside he walks towards the open fireplace, avoiding eye contact with the people that rest at the tables around him.
As Ben gets closer and closer to the fireplace he feels the radiating heat caressing each inch of bare skin. Ben darts around with the sound of the door opening once again. He feels on edge tonight, and he doesn’t know why. Usually something would have had to happen to make him feel this jumpy.
After a moment or two he approaches the bar, when he catches the barman’s attention and he looks up, straightens his back and fixes his hair and says.
“Orange and Vodka, thanks.”
The barman looks at him with confusion and then proceeds with his work. Ben turns his head to look at the roaring fire when he sees a young couple standing in front of it. Ben watches as they hold hands and look into each others eyes until finally the women allows herself to be with the man and they kiss. Ben smiles, because they remind him of himself and how he use to feel about someone.
The door opens again…
