Day 28 - TELL THE SYORY OF A MAN WHO LIVES IN A MOTEL
At the end of the hallway, nobody ever went there but everybody knew that he was there. He never left, some saw the first day he entered the hotel but some never had been in front of his face, never got a glimpse of his eyes but they knew… They knew that he existed even though… He didn’t ever make any noise, you would never hear anything, no music, no tv, no feet thumping on the ground,... It was as if he was just a ghost that people imagined. But they knew he was there. He lived there. His presence was palpable from outside the room, from the other side of the door. You could feel him, as you were just passing by… You would know that he was there.
It got adults curious, it got kids curious but nobody got brave enough to knock on the door ; But some went and leaned their heads against the hardwood door, they even closed their eyes trying to concentrate on their senses.
“Don’t move. Close your eyes, calm your breathing and concentrate.”
But it seemed, their senses shut down. They didn’t hear anything, nothing, not one single thing that would guarantee that he was well and alive.
The only thing that confirmed his presence was that energy, the way the atmosphere had thickened all around… And if you were lucky, you would find the “do not disturb” card hanging on the knob. But only if you were lucky enough. That’s how you would know he was there.
The day he came into the hotel, he wore all black. Black hair ; It looked like he had gone to a hair salon and asked for it to get dyed. Black tinted glasses ; We couldn’t get a good look at the color of his eyes but it felt like he was looking directly at mine. A long black coat ; A leather coat, it was ankle length and slightly opened but because of his turtleneck— Excuse me, black turtleneck, there was nothing to see and try to make out who he was. And his Doc Martens, polished like no other I have ever seen. Cleaned from the front to the back, and from up to down. Nothing had even a mark of dirtiness on it.
At some point, when I handed him his keys I think— I am not sure, but a sly smile crossed his face before he gave his back to me. That is the last time I ever got any sight of him.” she finished, shrugging her shoulders.
He opened the doors of his balcony, and without wasting any time he sat on the floor in a corner while he popped a cigarette between his thin lips. He had a leather bucket hat, tilted to the front and the only thing visible was smoke coming from the balcony. He wore a long sleeved shirt, and a cat was climbing up his shoulder, before it lay like a scarf around his neck. It purred slowly against his ear before it closed its eyes and fell into a deep slumber. The man didn’t even budge, as if used to this, like a routine that got live again and again ever since he got here.
The door was slightly open. A strong smell of perfume got to cross the hallway. It smelled like the Mont-blanc Legend ; A manly, masculine and strong perfume. Intoxicating, spellbinding, charming smell. If anyone had peaked through the split space, they could have seen the silver rings he was wearing shining thanks to the light that the moon brought to his room. Sometimes the metal clapped and it created a little melody. Now, if you could have squinted your eyes you would have noticed he was unbuttoning his shirt, slightly, on the top. His chest was visible, bare and illuminated. What an amazing sight to see.
“Sometimes— I’m not sure, but sometimes I can hear him. He talks, his voice sulky and deep. Bewitching, as if he was almost unrealistic. He wasn’t real. He talked, but to someone… Someone he must have loved, someone he still loves till this day—“
One day, he disappeared. And the only proof we had of his existence was a picture, a photo of a woman on his nightstand. And next to that smiling woman was the mysterious man, smiling… That same smile he had when he came in the first time.
The perfumed finally vanished at some point, but the cat would come looking for him from time to time.