RENAISSANCE

15. Keep an eye

The incessant sound of the pouring rain on the windows echoed in the room and woke me up. The dull, gray light of February made its way with difficulty through the dark clouds.

I opened my eyes, and saw that the drops of water were sliding down the window, creating a translucent curtain that slightly blurred the cityscape below. The low clouds seemed to flirt with the upper floors, shrouding the tops of the buildings in a light mist.

I felt numb, both physically and mentally. I felt like I was stuck in a bubble of gloom, captivated by the gloomy atmosphere outside.

The rain seemed to wrap the city in a blanket of sadness, as if the sky was crying with me.

I stood up slowly, placing my feet on the cold marble floor. My steps were slow and hesitant, as if I were carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I then headed to the bathroom, where the polished mirrors reflected my tired, lackluster face.

The marble tiles, sparkling light fixtures, and golden faucets that surrounded me made me feel uneasy, like I couldn't touch anything for fear of damaging it.

Last night, my new boss called me to put me on duty this afternoon exceptionally.

In the kitchen, I allow myself to use the coffee machine, which will prepare my only meal of the day. Hunger hasn't come to me for several weeks now. Every time I sat down to eat, a feeling of heaviness and indifference came over me, extinguishing any desire for food. My plate had become a symbol of frustration and disconnection.

The hum of the coffee machine broke the silence of the apartment, a strangely comforting sound in the monotony of this morning.

I sat on the edge of the large table, and began to sip my hot drink while admiring the bleak view.

Footsteps were heard upstairs. He is awake. My worst nightmare.

I then got up to wash my cup and leave as quickly as possible.

I saw him descend the stairs which seemed to bow before him at the same time, as he descended with animal grace. His bare torso caught my eye despite myself. Each muscle contracted and released fluidly, making his tattoos move, and creating this captivating spectacle that presented itself to me. His disheveled hair framed his still sleeping face.

He casually walked over to the coffee machine, then leaned back against the counter, running his hands over his face.

"What time do you finish today ?" he asked me, finally breaking the silence.

"At 8 p.m., why?" I replied without understanding the point of his question.

"You're going to accompany me to a party, so you won't have to wait too long."

The actions of my dishes were abandoned, forgotten on the sink as I froze. The sounds of falling water faded into the silence of the room as my mind tried to rationalize what he had just said.

"And why?" I asked in total incomprehension.

"Because at least you'll be able to help me with something," he said as he sat down at the table, his cup of coffee in hand.

My eyes followed his gestures, and I continued to furrow my eyebrows in incomprehension in search of more explanation.

His tone was sharp, a mix of cold amusement and calculation, reducing me to a mere pawn in his dangerous game.

"It's an evening that will bring together different clans of traffickers. Based on the information we gathered last time, the one we're looking for should be there too."

The revelation made my blood run cold.

"All the more reason for me not to come."

"All the more reason for you to come, on the contrary. Since this motherfucker has a certain interest in you," he said with sarcasm, "he will come to you when he sees you."