I was watching him… I was watching him and I could feel his fear from inside out. He was filling the room with that intense fear, still nothing spectacular. That clothing was making that man the center of attention because it was obvious that he was not from that place. An intruder… and his hands were telling it all. His hands were shaking and all the bottles that he ordered were emptying, faster and faster. I was there by random chance and I was ready for some interaction with the poorly dressed man in one of the most expensive restaurants in New York City.

‘Can I get a glass of red wine please?’ I said to the waiter who came to my table to bring me my breakfast. He was giving me strange looks and then I understood. I just ordered a glass of red wine while I am taking my breakfast. ‘Ok, actually bring me a glass of orange juice… and a glass of prosecco.’ He was writing my order while laughing and I felt the need to say: ‘I just like it!’

I opened my book and I light up a cigarette. I could see how the entire room was filling up with that nasty smoke. I was looking at him over the edges of my book. Those hands were still shaking and I noticed that on the margin of his table was a letter. A letter painted in terror, screams, and tears. I rose from my table ready to speak to him about this let’s say: strange behavior.

‘I couldn’t help but notice your letter that is sinking in loads of wine.’ I said smiling the best I could, while he rose his eyes from the plate he was just about to finish.

‘What do you want?’ he said with worried eyes. I was analyzing each move that he made because I could feel something inside that was telling me: this man has a connection to you. I ignored his question and I asked with let’s say, guts: ‘Do you mind if I sit?’

He showed me the chair that was right next to me, so I took that as a yes. I looked into his big brown eyes. Near his right hand, I saw a pair of glasses that was really dirty. His shirt looked as it was worn for a couple of days now, coming into complete opposition with his smell. He was smelling quite nice.

‘What’s your name, dear friend? I feel like we can’t have a glass of wine unless we know a bit of information about each other.’

‘You will find my name soon enough!’

I felt like the stranger was about to reveal to me his biggest secret. I looked deeper into his eyes and I got closer to him and I whispered: ‘Well, you won’t find my name. I am…’

‘I know you!’ he said stopping me in the middle of my sentence.

‘You know me! Well, I will introduce myself either way. My name is Michael George and I am a detective.’ I said while trying to look at the letter without him noticing.

‘Michael’ he said my name slowly ‘I… I got to go… I shall see you again but in another place.’

He rose instantly from his seat, took his glasses and his coat and left me there. Just me, my glass of orange juice and my pancakes. I turned around and there it was, his letter, now, my letter. I took the liberty of intruding into that man’s privacy because he already got into mine. He said he knew me, so I had to do something to know him as well. I opened the letter and there it was, written black on white, the killer of my wife was right in front of me and now he left to kill himself. The guilt was killing him from deep inside and now he was ready to end it.

Hello, guys and welcome back to an AlexJo Stories ‘A short step into Fiction’ article! This article was inspired by a man I saw on the airplane and his hands were shaking like crazy. Having that in mind I spiced it up a little bit. Haha! I am sorry for the delay in my previous article. I honestly don’t know what happened. A spoiler for the next article: it’s for every aspiring author in this world. So I hope you’re excited. Don’t forget to send me your stories, guys and I will #seeyousoon!



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