De Capo

The old man cut a solemn figure as he walked through the dimly lit streets. He was squinting while examining the pavement beneath his feet.

“Useless” he mumbled, “absolutely useless.”

He knew that he will find the last missing piece there. He run the calculations a hundred times before, and there could be no other way about it. Still, the impossibly thick layer of fog covering the ground, was making it pretty hard to see your own feet.

“Sodding luck “ he moaned, as he got on his knees and started checking for any signs of it on the curb. The whole situation was made much harder by the fact that he wasn’t quite sure what it is the he will find here.

His eyes were no longer what they used to be. He started thinking of the difference that the last sixty years made; his reactions have slowed down, his posture stooped, his legs became heavier, his mind.. no, not his mind - his mind remained as sharp as it was on the day that he opened the little black book.

Sometimes he felt like his mind and the book have been inexplicably connected , working in tandem with each other, developing together. To this day he wasn’t sure whether he really made the choice to open that book, or if that choice was made for him. It didn’t really matter to him either way.

When he first found the notebook , he knew that it belonged to him. When he started deciphering the writing in the book, he noticed notes that were made in different handwritings on the sides of the page. Strangely, it seemed like sometimes the notes would have a mind of their own, and will appear and disappear at different times on the page.

The old man imagined these words being said to him by faceless strangers that deemed him worthy enough to share their knowledge and memories with. However, over the decades some of his predecessors became his trusted companions on this solitary journey , whose support he cherished and relied upon. Afterall, there was no one else left but him and those he carried with him in this little book - those who lived before him.

Over the years, he learned that the book provided a multitude of answers, yet it was the readers job to discover the questions that coincided with the answers. Some of the questions were found and outlined by his predecessors, others he worked on patiently over the years.

The old man dedicated his entire life to the little black book - only to be deceived so cruelly both by the book and his trusty invisible associates after so many years . He was faced with an impossible answer that defied all logic . The old man worked tirelessly on it over many years , finding that all of his attempts were futile.

All until last night, when the breakthrough came - yet even now he wasn’t sure what was it was exactly that he was looking for.

“I think I’ll fail, but that’s alright ”, the old man’s voice came out a little muffled, he cleared his throat and repeated the sentence again , scaring the murder of crows sat in a tree opposite him. He was seemingly just as equally surprised by the sound that came out of his own mouth.

Was he repeating a phrase that he heard a long time ago? But what made him think of it? Were his unseen companions warning him that the search was impossible and came to an ubrupt end?

A sense of dread began creeping over him. The weight of his glorious purpose became too much for him to tolerate and he finally gave in to it and laid his head on the ground. Was that the end of the road, is that as far as he would ever go? The last man, failing , as all previous did.

“No! Aut non rem temptes aut perfice.” he whispered.

The old man felt a ray of sun on his cheek. He could hear the sound of birds chirping all around him. He lifted himself slowly and sat in the curve.

“We have only today” He said out loud.

As he was preparing to get up, he heard the question that he was searching for- loud and clear. It has always been present , but he has been too busy to hear it. As he reached towards the notebook to make the final note in the little black book- he noticed that he no longer had it. He no longer needed it, so it was no longer his.

An overwhelming sense of joy filled his heart; he felt at peace. He took out the little heart-shaped locked that he has been carrying with him through his life and looked at it in the emerging first rays of the sunrise. “We have only today” he repeated to himself again and again as the golden glow of the locket became more and more blinding. Slowly he got up, dusted off his trousers and headed away.

In a place far away from the old man, a little girl has awoke. As she opened her eyes, she immediately spotted a little black book and instantaneously knew it was hers.