The closest I’ve ever got
an experimental short story about desire
It was a cold Thursday night, I took the train to get to my book lover’s class. Accompanying me was a copy of Franz Kafka’s 1926 novel “The Castle”. As the train was moving, I sat by the window watching the lights and buildings fading in the scene. Station after station closed with gentle finality behind me.
The closer I got to my destination, sense of excitement and restlessness slowly crept towards me. It was my first time joining the class. Since moving to London, without knowing a soul, I decided to escape solitude in hopes to find solidarity. Finding comfort with people soothed me, it made me feel that I’m not alone. It made me feel, I exist. Maybe that’s the whole point of living, to share experiences with people. But a part of me wanted to be alone, what was the point of it? Was it just me?
I got off and searched my way getting to the class like an explorer looking for lost treasure. Theo and Harris was the name of the shop. It turned out to be a small bookshop located in a hidden alleyway with small cafe’s beside it. I was passing my way through the alleyway and the smell of brewed coffee added familiarity into the gentleness of the cold night.
I finally arrived at the shop and noticed that the door was open, so I invited myself in. Upon entering, I saw a big round table with 10–15 chairs around it.
Occupied by 5–7 people, I thought to myself “it’s going to be a small class”.
I felt relieved as I was hoping to only meet a handful of people. Big crowds agitate me if conversation is required but loved to be surrounded by it.
A guy saw me and instantly introduced himself. His name was Asa, owner of the shop and the person leading the class. As I sat down distant away from the rest, I smiled and nodded to the class with some diffidence.
When the clock struck 7, Asa closed the door. He started the class and about to discuss the complexities and the genius of Kafka’s The Castle. As we pulled out each copies of the novel, a sudden knock came on the door.
When the door opened, a woman emerged accompanied by the cold wind. She is slim of medium height. There is an energetic style and a sense of coyness about her. She is dressed in a denim skirt of knee height with a red top covered by a blue denim jacket. The shape of her top showed enough semblance of fitness. Her blonde hair was poker straight and pulled back into a ponytail. This showed in high contrast the soulful blue eyes that she possessed colder than the chorus of hues. I was mesmerised.
She apologised for being late with confidence. It was her first time joining the class. As she got closer to the table deciding where to sit, my heart took off in a high speed chase. I thought “please don’t sit beside me” like a kid running away from a monster. Not having anyone beside me, she took notice and took a seat. She said hello and introduced herself, Heloise was her name. There were certain moments of life that surprises you, whether it’s by accident or by design it arouses emotions you never knew existed. Something buried waiting to come out in the right moment. It was this specific time that my inner feelings of desire was born. There she was sitting beside me.
As we started discussing about Kafka, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance at her. A glance so brief it felt like taking a snapshot of her. Shots of her movements, shapes, and moments that’s gone forever. I wanted to keep it in my box of memories. Desire captured me and I was held its hostage. I noticed the mole on her neck added originality into her pale skin.
I was curious, desperate to know every inch of her body.
The flames of my desire only grew stronger with every movement. It was intoxicating. She possessed something in me that I never knew existed. I wanted to own her. Time went by, it felt instant and forever. I wanted to live in that moment. We were 30cm apart but her presence swallowed me like a blackhole and I gladly volunteered.
As the class marked its ending, I wanted to ask her out. It was random and out of place. The action was simple but the simplicity of it stroked me. I felt its impossibility. It took a lot of courage. It was the time that I should have found the right words to ask her, but I couldn’t.
