Candle lit, sitting at his desk he writes
Pondering of words to scribble he paces
Shelves and shelves of books
Dusty and old he runs his fingers along the bindings
Crossed arms and a tilted head he stands
Glancing out the window dripping of rain
Watching the scurrying people
His thoughts over lapping with the night
A knock at the door behind him he turns
Knowing the company on the other side
He sits on the king chair to his right
Standing back up to walk towards the door
Veering away from the wooden door
Shaking his head he sits back down
The knock comes again startling the man
Darting towards the door
Pressing his cheek to the wood
Petting the ripples in the barrier
The rain continues to pour down
Like the woman weeping outside
Hearing her sobbing brings tears to brink of his eyes
A letter is pushed underneath the door and the weeping fades away
The man snatches the letter and while reading, the tears start to fall
He slides down to the floor curling into a ball he grips the letter
Laying there he realizes the hurt he has inflicted on himself
Thoughts swarm into his mind
His crying turns silent like the old country night
Rolling over in his pool of tears looking to the ceiling
Sprawled out on the floor covering his face with his hands
Picking himself up he goes back to his desk
Sitting in his rickety old chair he swivels around facing the window
Still thinking of the right words to write he sips his tea
Dipping his pen in ink he begins
"Dear woman,
I love you with all of my heart."
He stops rereads it and starts the next line
"I am sorry"
He folds the letter and slips it into a envelope
Sighing aloud to himself as if it took all of his efforts
Navigating himself to the door
Unhinging the wood from the wood it swings wide open
Peeking around the corner seeing no sign of human life
He hurries through the halls to the mail room in the lobby
Shoving the envelope into its proper box turning around to check if anyone has seen
He gallops back to his room slamming the door behind him
His room seeming endless and infinite
He roams through the rows and rows of books over looking each copy
Finally coming to his room he sits on the edge of his bed
Inhaling an exhaling with great intensity
Gliding his finger tips over the sheets
Leaning over to smell the scent of her on his bed spread
Hugging the comforter as if it was her
Throwing himself back to lay flat he gives out a loud cry
Saying "Why! Why!" his agony protruding through the walls into the street
His eyes widen to the fullest as he shoots his attention to the ringing of the bell tower outside
Muttering to himself as he leaps from the bed he mutters "It's almost time, she is almost here"
"Almost here! Almost here!" "Hurry hurry"
Right as the knock at the door comes he turns the knob to the left and swings it open
There she was standing, her.. the woman
The beginning of his life.
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