The Tragic Fall

The weather has started to get cold. It is November, we are marching through the harsh roads of Autumn. Every Fall is the same here. Cold, rainy and lonely. 

I push the door to enter the "Mellilla". This is my favorite cafeteria. I've been coming here for almost a year now. Every day, I sit at the same table and I study. I love the ambiance of this place. Everything matches the colors that exist outside: brown, yellow, burgundy. It is extremely cozy, full of couches with puffy cushions and its smell, it reminds me of the musty rain, mixed with the sweetness of chocolate and the bitterness of coffee. It also serves the best hot chocolate that I have ever tasted! And that is because of its secret ingredient. You see, Mellilla is Latin for "little honey". Every recipe, every thing that is served here, contains even the smallest amount of honey, which gives them this amazing, sweet flavor.  

I wipe my wet boots on the soft mat and enter the cafeteria. The place is huge. Lit in a certain way, so that it pleases both the people who come here to relax and the ones who need to work. The moment the waitress sees me, she smiles at me. I have been coming here too often, so I have gotten to meet all the staff. She takes a few steps closer to me, while holding a tray, full of things. 

" The usual? " She asks me calmly, with a smooth, soft voice. 

I nod and thank her for taking - and for remembering - my order. She smiles at me again and then walks away, moving towards the counter.

At this point, I start moving towards my table.

"My" table. Yes, like it or not, I have become on of "those" people. I take off my coat and place it carefully on the clothes stand. This table is strategically chosen. It is placed on a corner, which allows me to study in silence. It is away from the door, so the cold air does not affect me, and it is close to the heater, during the cold periods, or the air conditioner, during the warm periods. Also, the clothes stand is next to it, and the couch is placed opposite the window, so I have a perfect view of the outside area. 

As soon as I sit down, I take out my books and my notes. I spread everything in a certain way on the table and leave a few stuff on the couch, next to me. When the waitress arrives, holding my hot chocolate and my honey cake bites, she knows exactly where to place them, so that everything is in perfect balance. 

And then the clock starts running. Time keeps flying. And I keep on reading non stop. 

Until at some point, I start feeling uneasy. 

Well that's a first, I think to myself. 

I place the notebook on my thighs. I take a glance around and notice that the place is maxed out. There are no empty seats left. Some people are even drinking their coffee on the counter, while sitting on stools. But other than that, the place remains the same; the lighting is the same, the atmosphere is still the same, the usual reaxing music is playing on the background. I just cannot understand where this strange feeling is coming from. 

I actually find it difficult to explain this feeling in general. It is as if I feel unsafe. There is something that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. For some reason, my whole body is on alert mode. 

At first I try to ignore it. I grab my pen again and start underlying the most important parts of my notes. I keep repeating the words softly, to myself, so that I manage to learn what I need by heart. But this feeling, this hunch, it keeps growing stronger, to the point where I have to touch the back of my neck in order to offer me some relief. In addition to that, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Yet again, my heart is beating so fast, that it feels as if it is about to break out of my chest.

And then I started going paranoid over everything. Although I know a lot about irrational fears, I cannot undertsand if this is what I am experiencing now. When I opened my eyes again, I swear that I saw someone, I saw his reflection on the pitcher on my table, starring at me. From what I can understand, he is sitting behind me. I was not certain about what was going on, so I didn't turn around to look at him. But the feeling, the fear, the alert, just won't go away. 

That's why I decide to put my stuff back in my bag. I raise my hand so that the waitress sees me and get my wallet out in order to pay. I try to look calm, but I can feel my face getting warmer, my back sweating, that lump blocking my throat. 

The feeling keeps getting more intense. I start getting slightly dizzy. There is ringing in my ears and I notice every sound near me, like the change that the lovabel waitress is counting to hand it to me. I take another look at the pitcher and I realise that the guy is still looking at me. He is doing nothing else. He is just sitting there, on a stool, with his eyes fixed on me.

It takes me a few seconds and then I get up abruptly. I knock the table in front of me, but I don't even mind it. I grab my bag and my coat and whisper to the waitress to keep the change. I thank her quickly and wish her for a nice rest of her shift. But the moment I pass next to her, she grabs my arm and pulls me closer to her. 

" Run. " She whispers in my ear and releases my arm. 

Contrary to her advice, involuntarily, I freeze. While I am unable to move, I realise that she is looking at this man. The one that was starring at me. The one that I recognised just by looking at his reflection. 

With a sharp move I turn around. My heart still beating like crazy, in my mind countless thoughts passing every second. And there he is. Right in front of me. Dressed in a black trench coat, covering half of his face with a black scarf. The man who had once managed to bring so much color in my life. The one with the power to drain it all away within minutes. The man that I loved the most, until he released all this darkness in our life. The one who keeps follwing me everywhere I go. 

My thoughts become louder. There are voices in my head screaming to me, telling me to run. So, I take a first step backwards. My elbow pushes the waitress, the tray slips from her hands and every mug falls on the creamy colored carpet. The combination of the dark liquids creates a black stain, which expands further on the carpet. 

When I take my second step, I can see him getting up. It is difficult to breathe. I decide to not look at him and focus on my goal. I have to get out of this place! 

" Ophelia! " I can hear him yelling my name. 

I can hear everyone else, women, men, children screaming. I am almost at the door when I notice that some of the clients are hidding under the tables. My hand's on the doorknob when I see a young woman hugging her daughter, who is crying loudly, while they are trying to fit under the table. 

Unfortunately I turn around. I look at him. At the same time a warm tear falls down on my cheek. 

He's still there. Standing in front of the counter, his briefcase open, on the floor, white papers flying everywhere, his trench coat placed on the stool... him, pointing a gun at me.

" I am sorry... " Were his last words.

The last words I ever heard. 

And then my eyes close. My body is finally calm. This feeling of alert is over. For a moment I feel free. He is not here to haunt me anymore. 

Suddenly, my eyes open again. I am standing outside the "Mellilla". It is cold. It is pouring down. And my hand's on the doorknob. I push the door to enter the "Mellilla". And that is when I realise. He may not be here to haunt me... But I am haunting him.