one
1
I’m not sure where I am. In front of me there’s only a narrow hallway that doesn’t seem to have an end. For how long have I been here? As hard as I try to, I can’t remember anything —I don’t know if I just woke up or I simply keep forgetting everything as time passes by. I try to focus and decide what to do, where to go, what to think, but there’s something keeping me apart from doing it. I can’t think on just one thing at the time but I know if I don’t do something soon I’ll end up asphyxiating —and not just because of the lack of oxygen.
For some reason, I feel like I know why I’m here and I know how to get out, like if it wasn’t the first time. But my mind can’t go further than a white background and unfinished sentences —that kind of sentences no one ever ends.
“Just try to focus,” says someone suddenly. I turn around to see whose voice it is —is there anyone else of am I just starting to hear voices? “It doesn’t matter how you got here. Just… try to focus and moving forward.”
And I see her, finally. A shy smile shows up in my face, that kind of smiles only certain people can see on you.
“What’s up with your I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-is-going-on face?,” she asks smiling, too. “It’s not like you don’t know me.”
Of course I know you, how could I forget me?, I think as she starts to move forward. When she passes me by, I notice she’s very close to me —she almost touches me. I realize how funny is to see her —me— like this. How does she see me? At the end of the day, when there’s a mirror in between you can barely find one difference between us.
“That’s because the mirror doesn’t know us,” she says. I didn’t expect that. “It just sees us when we decide to look at it.” I smile again, and it’s mutual. How does she do it? Making me smile for the dumbest stuff, I mean. She always knows what to say while I do nothing but think.
Her presence calms me down —knowing that there’s someone else with me. I often wonder, does she really count as someone else? Honestly, I’m kind of worried about ending up believing she does.
“Well,” she starts talking again. “Since none of us knows, I’d say we follow where the hallway goes. We don’t really have any other option, do we?”
I nod and then I start walking. We walk side to side, sort of looking for any difference between the walls we just passed by and the ones that come next. Having her next to me is like carrying a radio —she’s always talking and thinking out loud. Don’t misunderstand me, I truly love it. I actually envy this about her; being able to talk whenever she wants to no matter what. I sometimes dream I’m as outgoing as she is.
We keep walking for a (long) while. I couldn’t tell how long it has been since we started walking down the hallway, though, because right now I haven’t got any kind of track of time. I can’t even think about what time would a clock (?) if there was one.
“Look at that!” she says as she points something a bit further down the hallway. “See? Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk.” Sure, I’ll try to believe that.
I try to look at what she’s pointing as I start walking faster and faster so I’m able to see it as soon as I can. And as I get closer to it, I can recognize a blackboard, some chalk and a clock hanging in the wall on my left side.
We found it.
