A short story I wrote the other day, I hope people will enjoy reading it.

There was a old black bag standing on the middle of the street, completely soaked by the continuing rain. It’s position was suspicious, on the corner opposite a big shopping window, standing up straight as though it was placed there on purpose. A big reflecting window on one side, showing a replica of the seemingly misplaced object. And a dark alley on the other, giving off a strong feeling there was somebody luring from the shadows. Suddenly the sound of a person, running from the distance, became stronger and stronger.

What started as a quick resting of the eyes, turned out to be a long afternoon sleep. He got up from his bed looking at his night stand. The alarm clock was showing 19:45 already, next to it the transparent cup with his vitamin pills, that the doctor prescribed him. Just like yesterday, his throat was killing him so he left the pills for what they were and went out, going downstairs to the cafeteria were he hoped to get some soup, with which he wouldn’t have as much trouble eating at the moment.

While walking down the hallway, passing by a mirror, he took a quick look at himself, having the typical just-got-out-of-bed hairstyle, he couldn’t care less about it. The reason he looked, was to have a quick glance at his necklace. His golden necklace, the only heirloom he ever got, his most precious possession. Any time he saw his own reflection, he couldn’t help smiling while staring at it. His feelings changed abruptly as he passed the elevator. He had been in one once, but at that time he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the walls were closing in on him, like he was going to die right there. A cold shiver took over his body while thinking back at that moment. Since then, he only took the stairs. Besides, it was only 1 floor down to the ground floor, where the cafeteria was.

As he walked in, there was a cold chill the moment he saw Goldie. His real name wasn’t Goldie, but his golden tooth and multiple golden necklaces made the name Goldie suit him so in his mind he would always be Goldie.

“Good evening, Mister Jonathan.”, came from his mouth, showing the blinking tooth as he smiled.

“Johnny! My name is Johnny. Why can’t people just call me Johnny.” He hated it when people called him that. Especially Goldie, and he noticed once more the obsessive look he had, staring at his most valuable possession. Like it was a trophy he wanted to add to his collection. He didn’t feel comfortable at all having no other guests sitting at the tables anymore so he quickly went to the counter. From the back came an old lady with a, what used to be a white, chef’s uniform.

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