Falling Falling Stars

33 - Snail

Efnisien woke on Monday morning to the sound of rain. He'd gone to bed late after doing a lot of transcription for Professor Adayemi. She tended to send him a whole bunch of files at once, often late at night, and he worked harder for her because he got the sense that she was antsy about getting her papers done quickly. She published articles all the time from what he could tell, she never seemed to sleep.

More than that, he enjoyed all of her work. He liked listening to her voice, he liked how she introduced him to new terms. He thought he was pretty on the money when it came to anthropology and sociology now that he'd done audio transcription for Chandra and others in the field. But Professor Adayemi was on a whole other level and he enjoyed he challenge of researching and learning niche concepts.

Arden had sent him a copy of the form via email, and Efnisien had gone through it several times already. That side of his life hardly seemed real. Like a bubble that might burst at any moment, but shiny enough that he liked looking at it all the time.

As he listened to the rain and felt strangely peaceful, he scrolled through the document again and pressed his lips together.

He was anxious and uncomfortable and nervous and excited. He tried not to think about it too hard. He tried not to imagine Arden's hands on his bare skin, because he didn't know how to process something like that. He wasn't even really sure what it'd feel like. Crielle touched his face, and sometimes his hands, and sometimes she straightened his clothes while tailoring. Otherwise, the only other people who'd really ever touched him, were like nurses when they changed dressings.

Eventually he rested his phone on his chest and listened to the weather.

It sounded like the inside of his mind when he couldn't think, and that was strangely soothing. Like the whole world couldn't think either and was throwing rain at the ground because of it. Efnisien thought it was nice to know it wasn't just him.

After a while he got up and showered. He looked at Arden's pasta in the fridge and thought that if he could ever get over his renewed fear of leaving his apartment block and heading to the store, he'd get some bread to go with it. That'd make it last longer.

He made porridge and overcooked it and held the warm bowl in his hands as he ate, thinking that somehow the porridge he was eating – made with water and unsweetened, unsalted – tasted like the rain falling outside. Nothingy and constant and grey.

He washed his bowl and stared at the bag of rubbish and then tied it up and decided to take it out. As he took the elevator down to the ground level, he rested the bag against his leg and let his mind empty.

The rain was heavier and louder when he exited into the underground carpark. He walked over to the giant bins and tossed his bag inside, then stood there for a while, looking towards one of the exits out into the wider world. The rain was hammering down. Big fat drops, the dimness of heavy clouds.

He'd never really noticed storms properly before. He thought that maybe he could feel the hum of the rain constantly falling on the ground through his feet. Maybe he was imagining it. He could feel the wetness in the air, and when he breathed in, he felt it sticking to his lungs and his throat.

As he stared blankly ahead, a tiny bit of movement caught his attention – a glint of light that was different to the sheen of rain on different surfaces.

A large garden snail, gamely making its way towards the cars. Efnisien frowned at it, then walked over.

As a kid, he'd stepped on snails. He'd stepped on any living thing he could step on. He'd always thought the crunch of the shell was satisfying, and he liked the way the body of the animal still moved a little after death, like it was shrinking in on itself in pain. Maybe it was. Efnisien stared down at the snail. He imagined stepping on it, but he didn't really want to.