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Ich bau auf wie ein Sparvertrag (solange der Vorrat reicht)

Veröffentlicht am

Hab noch einige Texte, die ich noch nich veröffentlicht hab, zumindest nicht außerhalb universitärer Einrichtungen. Heute: der zweite Teil der Kurzgeschichte “Alternate”.

„Having arrived at my apartment, I instinctually threw my keys and the rest of my belongings on the couch. Three years had already passed and I was still throwing everything on that damn smelly thing expecting her to put it away, in her orderly fashion. Man, sad creature of habit. The suitcase was stowed under the bed. I looked at one of my four walls and sighed. The clock expressed so many things:

  1. I needed to get some sleep.
  2. It was much too late for indulging the craving for the printed word.
  3. Work is eating me alive.

The bathroom door invited me to do the daily routine. I looked in the mirror while coating my face with lather. I immediately wiped it off again. In front of me stood a man who had neglected himself for a long time. Daily routine? I had not shaved myself since months. A forest filled with wild, uncharted organisms had stroked root all over my pale countenance. The scalp was covered with black, matted vines ready to grab any undesired intruder and lure him on to destruction. Behind all the unwanted nature’s gifts, I hardly could see anything else but the eyes. Life had abandoned them a long time ago. These were the eyes of a marshal before the irrevocable capitulation. The eyes of a soldier the moment before he knew he would die. Reduced to their rudimental functions they lived a dire existence in their insomnia-stricken sockets. I took the lather, took the razor and scythed away. I knew not where this last spark of desire came from and why it showed itself that day, that moment. Clean, shaven. It was a cliché but I felt sort of reborn, far away from energetic but still better than before. The bed called for its attendance.

I roamed from left to right, from right to left. I switched the pillows, put them away, tried to lie at the foot of the bed. The suitcase, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did he not return after the incident? A lot of things did not make sense. I felt the urge to open it creeping into my mind. I thought of myself as an honest and modest person: hardly ever lied, never up to fight, avoiding any confrontation. Okay, I hardly had been in contact to any soul in the past years but still. I looked to the patch on the floor next the bed noticing that one corner of the suitcase greeted me. My hands reached for it. Faster than my mind could grasp what was happening the suitcase made itself comfortable on the mattress. The latter instantly creaked under its weight.“

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