Secrets#@#@#@ Chapter Seven

Tim lowered his head. He did not expect to hear such things from Rosa. Tear flooded down his cheeks. No one had ever seen such tears in the eyes of a man, a man who played the role of toughness so well. But beneath those tears, he just learned that some degree of happiness could be achievable in this world, as his heart overflowed with gratitude and awe.

As he was filled with a feeling that he had never experienced, he thought to himself about the small bit of universe he occupied. His piece of world that he occupied, in comparison to the rest of the world, seemed so minute and small but it belonged to him and it was not a great concern to others. He thought of the period of the time which was his, and his only, to live. It was indefinitely and exceedingly small compare to the entire eternity, the infinity in which he had not been and would not be. But yet, here in this house, in this small bit, himself, in this period of exactness, precision, and accuracy, his blood flowed, his brain worked affectedly, and his heart longed ambitiously. He sighed and said under his tongue: "Life, what an atrocious business!"

He walked to the window and looked through the open window at the nature outside. A withered leaf was separated from its stem and hovering to the ground. Its movement to him was like a butterfly. He thought how strange something so dead, so mournful, the withered leaf, could be so alive like a butterfly, a living thing so happy and full of life!

The awe among others continued. When Tim returned to his seat, he realized by looking at others that no one in that room had any animosity against him anymore. That made him happy and comfortable, after all comfort, he could not deny, was something he had always liked. But at the same time he felt no desire or very little desire to live. He knew what other thought at that moment.He said to himself: "Let them render this opposite contradiction as best as they can!" It was not his place anymore to prove his position or to fight for his dignity. He knew from looking into their eyes that he was just a pure infirmity then to them.

He was happy, a happiness he had not felt for so long. He was contented because he could not see if time was passing, if it was passing fast or slow! His orderly routine was now in place, it was not upset and he liked it. All his life he had managed to live with such an irreproachable normality that there was not any place left for sadness or dullness. Nevertheless, since he had learned about his deadly disease, his methodical custom was disturbed. This morning, in this house, among these people, he suddenly felt peace again.

The feel of the fresh air, coming from the open window on his face and body made him to tear apart from that sad restlessness he had felt that entire night. He knew now for fact that Rosa, as he had thought before, was not patronizing him. With her, he had always had the feeling that he should be grateful to her. But now, right now, that was not how he felt or thought. He now recognized that young hearts, like Rosa's, would not be burdened by those kind s of sensations; but by feelings of gratitude and understanding.

Putting aside all his vanities, at that moment, he thought to himself that young people like Rosa, however were much further from the truth of the matter than people like him, old, because of sickness. Nonetheless, he could not help thinking that those young had something that he, the old, lacked; something that gave them a gain and power over him. Perhaps it was not all their youth. He thought their advantage, perhaps, was because they had less marks of their mental slavery than him.

To Be Continued