A disturbed mind, a foolish boy, and a gory past. PS this is a short story in parts.
He just had to ask her tonight, Russell decided, or it would be too late. Gosh, he couldn’t believe that he was scared of his own friend. She was messed up in the head. Got a screw loose, many people said. Anyway, he could see her now, standing in the balcony, and mustering enough courage, he went out.
She heard a sound of footsteps behind her, and turned to see Russell come out. He gave her a brief smile, and came ahead. He placed his hands on the railings, and leaned forward. Apparently, something was bothering him, and he was itching to say something—it was obvious from the way he kept on tapping his fingers on the railing, as if he was waiting for something to happen. The dim moonlight was shining on his head, bleaching his hair of colour. If he hadn’t been wearing glasses, she could have easily mistaken him for his brother.
He was wearing a dark nightshirt, probably a blue one but she wasn’t sure, and track pants. His glasses reflected the moonlight, and it looked as if his eyes were emitting a light. She looked up to see a full moon. He was looking down at the streets; at this late hour, there were no cars on the road. People may callNew York Cityas the city that never slept, but tonight, she could hear no sounds, barring their harmonic breathing. The streetlights illuminated the bare streets, emphasising the fact that probably tonight the city laid to rest.
As she stole glance at him again, she had a strong sense of déjà vu. She reminded him of someone, though she couldn’t exactly remember whom. Tonight, standing in the dim moonlight, she reminded her of someone who was once probably very close to her. It was those glasses, she was sure, because his brother, though being identical, didn’t stir up any memories. She racked her memory, and he still kept on looking at the empty streets. It was his stance and his glasses, she suddenly realised, that gave her the feeling.
Then, she remembered.