RENAISSANCE

18. Illusion

Again this same silhouette that was familiar to me.

I had realized his presence at the last moment, while I was washing glasses, and it was too late. The shadow moved through the crowd, then disappeared before I had time to see its face. Odd. Would I make films for myself?

Everything recent in my life was driving me crazy and completely paranoid. I distrusted everything and everyone. From the slightest noise. From the slightest gesture from some stranger. From the slightest breath of wind.

I was afraid the men from last night would come again, although no one had appeared outside the pub since.

The faces follow one another. Loners looking for a little company, distraught lovers drowning in each other's gaze, groups of friends loudly celebrating their complicity. I witness their joys, their sorrows, their stolen moments.

As I was serving yet another drink, I saw Charlie's dancers making their entrance as they do every evening.

They appeared, and their slender silhouettes were outlined in the subdued light, arousing admiring murmurs from the spectators. Dressed in sparkling costumes, they were the dancers of the night, the muses who illuminated this dark corner.

I admired them tirelessly, these shadow dancers. Confident, beautiful and bold with goddess bodies.

Some drunks climbed onto the stage, the craziest ones wrapped around the pole dance and the evening was in full swing. The colorful neon lights were reflected on the walls, the lively conversations and muffled laughter brightened up the place and made me shyly vibrate too, newly.

I started to wipe the counter with a damp cloth, when my hand hit a pile of leaflets carelessly placed there, causing them to fall to the floor. It was difficult to see where they had fallen in the darkness, but I managed to grab a few blindly, narrowly missing having my fingers crushed.

The paper in my hand, revealed by the subdued light, gave me a moment's respite. "Piano concert given by the Manhattan School of Music" with location coordinates, date and time.

I kept my eyes fixed on the letters for a moment that was far too long for my liking.

I then energetically looked away and headed towards the trash can hidden under the alcohol shelf to get rid of this school that had haunted me since that famous evening.

But in front of the trash can, my body no longer responded to me. My arm remained frozen above the void of no return. Come on, throw it away. My hand remained hesitant, my fingers clung desperately to the piece of paper, and did not want to detach themselves from it despite myself. Fucking throw it away. Stay away from all that.

And the leaflet ends up in the back pocket of my jeans.

I returned to the front of the counter to take orders from those who were impatiently waiting for me as if nothing had happened, as if I did not feel guilty for my action.

"Do you want a hand ?" Charlie called behind me, just as overwhelmed as I was.

"N-no, it'll be fine," I replied between two commands.

My hands were sticky, my cloth on my shoulder completely dirty and my apron just as dirty. I looked at the time: 11:46 p.m. Less than two hours until I finish my shift.

I glanced nervously at the glass front door that overlooked the street. No one seemed to be lurking. I blew out a breath.

Then my breath stopped just as quickly.

What the hell was he doing here?

His haughty appearance commanded the attention of all those who had the privilege of witnessing his presence. It was as if the shadows themselves were stepping back to give way to him, as if he were the undisputed Messi of the place.