A winding and pointless tale

I had been traveling for several years, living "the life" and getting the matching tan and shoes to mask the fact I was still running like hell (I drew the short straw this time around and hadn't landed a safe life).

But I knew I had to settle down if I wanted to finally find closure. And because one simply can't remain in flight forever (although the sound of the engine in flight in a plane is oddly comforting - when you're so far above the world and you are so physically far away from all the worries down there, you can't do anything about them even if you wanted to - all those hours spent in the air were some of the most peaceful I've ever had).

So, I landed in a town and started apartment hunting. Being a techie type, and finding out their fiber installation had been somewhat of a disaster, I started actually walking around town - block by block - to see where it was installed and thus what areas I should be looking at.

While I was walking, I came across many neighborhoods and houses. I pointed out the cute ones to the people I was with.

But then we came across a very silent section, so silent you felt you needed to hold your breath as to not disturb them, and I looked up at a window, and I said, "This would be absolutely perfect, but there's no way to get one, sadly." There were no for rent or sale signs and the place seemed occupied.

But it was my absolute ideal. That one abode out of the thousands in the town and the many hundreds we had walked by.

I went back to my temporary accommodations and reached out to a realtor, not expecting much. I already knew every single place available within my budget in the town.

I told them what I wanted - the size, the type of internet (I never did win that one), and gave them a map of the half of town that would be okay.

They said they had a place that had just come on the market and I would love it.

I took a taxi to the address they gave me. There was the exact block that I had been swooning over. The taxi dropped me off. I went inside. As I was standing in the kitchen with the realtor, I looked out the window.

I was looking out the window I had looked up at, only a few days earlier, and wistfully wished was available.

So, I signed.

I don't normally believe in fate. In fact, I usually question it when something is too good to be true. But I loved the casa, so I signed.

A year or so later, I was looking out that same kitchen window at the only graffiti that had even been on the wall across from it, the same graffiti that had been there since the day I moved in.

I had been reading the "me tell you, friends before May" thread earlier. As I looked out the window, over the perfectly silent environment, broken only by the sound and movement of the birds and wildlife, I actually looked at the graffiti for the first time.

It said "friends" and two other short messages, one of them a greeting, one of them a request. And beside it, someone had spray painted a portal on the cement wall.

And I tilted my head and remembered a few words from that thread...

"door opens with portal to dark matters not understanding earth beings"

And I contemplated it and life, and how things all seemed to merge at this point, and sat there silently drinking my tea, sitting in a window that had been manifested for me like a gift from the heavens and wondering if I should leave it at that, or contemplate why the street cleaners never bothered to remove the spray painted message or the portal.

And if maybe the abode wasn't the only thing that had been manifested.

Last Edited by TlvmmCpoft on 04/20/2020 02:43 PM