The Daydreamer's Madness

There she was, again. For years I've seen her sitting on that bench, as I make my way to work, crossing this park.

It's funny, we've never actually greeted each others, let alone speak, but I have this feeling that we both notice each others.

One cold morning I poured my coffee down the drain and made my way outside, to be greeted by a morning mist, a sort of shapeless guardian of time, fighting the sun to keep this peculiar moment, called crepuscule, going.

Well, I felt minuscule, as I walked across the road, these dark fluffy clouds hovering over the very city I've lived in all my life. I made small talk with the chicken, on the other side of the road, exchanging pleasantries.

ME ''How are the kids''

CHICKEN ''They're just fine, still in their shells and all''

ME ''Well, say hello to the wife will ya, friend''

CHICKEN ''Will not, since a fox got to her last week, gruesome affair''

ME ''Sad to hear it, good day''

CHICKEN ''Same to you, watch for the dragonfly''

As I tucked my icicles in my pockets, I realised that I was laughing like a mad person, completely lost in my mind, walking. Making my way under the tall trees, I entered the park. In these trees were big-nosed monkeys, hurling rocks and branches at passerby. As I pass the biggest one, I avoid eye contact and start hollering, filling the crisp air of an absurd, primal music. Soon enough the monkeys got down from the trees and started to walk, as people do, stopping and pretending to talk. The big-nosed one stayed on his branch and clapped his hands, then I kissed his ring. Blessed by his majesty the Prime minister of the big tree, I kept on walking my merry way.

My mind kept trying to focus on the upcoming day at work, but such thoughts could wait a few more minutes. As I turned to the left at a park highway, a flock of cyclists passed me on the left, at incredible speed. All of them had the standard Spandex suit, with the helmet and sunglasses. One yelled something as he passed me by, making these intricate movements with his arms, as if I were to understand some abstract body cyclist language. After a few minutes the flock thinned. The last one I saw was a pig on a unicycle, struggling to keep up with even the slowest of the flock. I pushed him down and, ignoring his screeching of panic I laid my judgment upon him, taking its pathetic life, to the blind eye of many witnesses. Cleaning my hands on a nearby bush, I was ecstatic. My white tie was stained with the invisible blood of a non-existent animal that I slain without pity, yet my mind was in complete ebullition.

Above me was hovering one of the biggest dragonfly I'd ever seen, and I've seen at least two in my twenty-four years on this earth. In one swift move its wing began flapping in a noisy way, and it stood still, a few meters above the ground. Its wings were so noisy in fact that I couldn't hear anything else, neither the chirping of the harpies nor the screams of agony of the ants. The dragonfly flew away, seemingly disinterested by my humble presence. The deafening silence made way to a symphony of nature's most mundane noises. Only to be interrupted by a soloist, performing the lacrimosia.

I had completely forgot her.

There she was, again. Sitting on that bench.

But today she was crying, and she wasn't alone. Seeing her in such an emotional state took me completely off guard. I must've had such a concerned face, which is funny since we were nothing more than strangers.

How I wished I could go sit next to her and comfort her, not as an excuse to finally talk to her, but only for her to not be so sad anymore. As I approached, they didn't even seem to see me, or the dead body on the floor, in front of them.

I tried to say something, but nothing came to mind.

I tried to do something, but nothing came to body.

I finally laid there, on the ground in front of them, as the clouds opened their hearts and let forth their tears, much like her. To all I was an unfortunate fool, that somehow died while crossing a park. To her, I was this stranger that she never dared talk to. To me, I was a mad person, so deep in my own imagination that I perished from it.

As I stop breathing, I feel as though this is for the best. I look one last time at her, as I accept my departure from this world.

She wasn't crying, she was laughing.