As I walk, the night deep and the sky dark, I reflect on my life choices and never ending possibilities. I have walked that same road days after days, my hands ready in fists, thumbs outside. It’s something I’ve learnt in fictional books and even if I may not know the consequences, I still trust books’ suggestions more than my own experience for I’ve never punched anyone. After a long and hot day of work, with bad AC and outside garden, I was feeling sticky and probably stinky too. I let my hair loose from the chignon and they tumble down in soft waves, feeling free and light for once after a long time, feeling them bounce in the air as I move. I rejoice at the thought of an ending day and the promise of a shower that waits me at home, not before the long journey to take me there tho.
As I walk, an arm, out of nowhere, circles my shoulders. I’m confused and my fists are ready. Seconds pass and I finally turn my head to the right to inspect the owner of that arm. It’s a guy, barely older than me. I keep walking, faster now. He talks and asks questions and now I’m trying to move farther from him and his arm, not focusing on his senseless rambling. He won’t let it happen. We’re behind the train station and if some places might be illuminated, other corners are pitch black and isolated. Not long after that night, the news reported a man assaulted and injuried by a lunatic stranger and his machete not far from that same corner.
I was ready to hit him if I needed to, if his talking became something more. I believe I was ready for I’ve been waiting for this very moment to happen. I, in fact, hoped for this opportunity to come. It’s vengeance I’ve been seeking. The proof of my dead weakness. I’m ready to fight now and will not let it happen, again.