literature

To Dance with the Storm

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Literature Text

I find myself walking towards the nearest cab, and taking a ride. I completely have no idea where to go, or what to do. Everything in my mind was cloudy, and darkness accompanied me, inside and out. The skies had an unnatural purplish glow at this time of the night, and a distant rumble could be heard. A flash spread across the sky, and lit up the streets. I had a feeling that a heavy rain was coming. It isn't enough to dampen my feelings of hopelessness and desperation.

I pulled out a small amount of cash from my back pocket and gave it to the driver. For a split second I hated the thought of giving the last of my money, and a runaway scheme formed in my head, but with what moral code left in me I shrugged it off and thanked the driver instead for taking me safely to my destination.

I walked a few blocks away from where I had been left off. I saw late-night ladies, with their occasional mini-skirts, flaunting their legs, hoping some guys would pick them up. "Hey baby," I heard them one say. Just as they were hoping for cash, I too had the desire for some coins and bills. I walked past them, not throwing a look. Even though they didn't make a sound or a move of disappointment, I could sense their sadness.

I faced a great building, with some two or three floors high, I wasn't sure. I had gone inside only twice and for the same purpose. My phone began to ring, and I swiftly put it beside my ear.

"Come on in. I can see you."

He quickly brought down the call as I tried to scan the windows for the figure of a man. The lights on all windows were on except for one on the middle. I let out a heavy sigh.

My heart was thumping painfully, and my breathing got heavier. I felt nauseated, but I had to do this.

I was walking senseless, and I didn't notice I was already in front of a great black door. The same long corridor, with sick yellow paint, had a heavy feel to it. I was about to knock, but I stopped myself. I knew he would just open it for me, like how he would provide for my needs in exchange for things he wanted.

The black door swung open, and a draft greeted me, stinging my face and making me teary. It was dark inside, with only a table lamp that made the same sick yellow color as it filled the darkness with soft illumination.

He brought his hand out towards me, and I brought mine closer, slowly, with the greatest reluctance I could possibly hint.

He led me towards the bedroom, and as he closed the door I tried to contain my sadness which was starting to well up in my eyes.

He held my shoulder with both of his hands, his tender grip demanding complete submission.

"You ready?"

"Always." I lied.

The storm would always pass, lightning lasts for not a second, the thunder would echo but the rain was what mattered.
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