Friday, November 14

Observer

A lone figure in black approaches the chained doors of what used to be some sort of nightclub venue. As you watch from afar, slender fingers make quick work of the lock and the person disappear into the darkness. Quickly, you follow, sliding in just behind them, like a ghost. The click of the door closing echos through the abandoned premises. No one has bothered to clear away any of the old furniture and it is covered in the thin layer of dust. The figure pauses, as if remembering the nights when the walls rang with joyous laughter, political debate, and general conversation about day-to-day happenings.
Slipping behind the bar, they run their gloved fingertips over a bottle of wine, revealing the label. If you listen carefully, you can hear the audible sigh, exposing our mysterious figure as a woman. She lowers the black hooded cloak to expose her short, red hair. Removing the gloves, she blows gently on the bottles, trying to recapture their newness. If you look closely, there might be a small tear forming in her green eyes, but you cannot be entirely sure.
The sound of her heeled boots reverberate throughout as she crosses the wooden flooring, passing upturned tables and chairs. Entering a room adjacent to the bar area, you see what must have been a casino, the games sucked of the life and entertainment once provided to the patrons. She moves deliberately to a door and punches in a key code, the combination still fresh in her memory as if it were yesterday.
The office smells musty and there is a metallic scent in the air combined with some sort of cleaning solution. Someone has hastily cleaned and returned order to the surroundings, but you know something terrible happened here. Your chest tightens as you watch her feel the wall for a hidden panel. She stops suddenly and presses slowly. A small compartment swings open. A light flickers on, illuminating the cubbyhole.
You peer over her shoulder, a forever silent observer to this strange series of events. Inside, something glints, reflecting in shimmering sparks off the sides of the vault. She withdraws it and cradles it in her hands, the plastic wrapping crinkling in the silence. Curiosity overwhelms you. What is this precious package, kept secreted away?
She takes it over to the desk, placing her palm flat on the surface. Her eyes close, brow furrows as if she is pained by the memory of this very place. Stop stalling! You want to scream, but you're mute, tense with anticipation.
The packaging is removed at an excruciatingly slow pace. You hold your breath. This is the moment you have been waiting for. The denouement of this bizarre episode. A sudden noise from outside. She freezes. Voices calling out. The package disappears into her cloak. No! You were so close!
They are coming. She has to get out. She's been here before though and knows. Another secret panel and she's gone. Security officers flood the room, but it's empty.

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