A soft knock. My silence meant consent, and a click ensued as the handle of my door turned. I was lying prone, on my bed, having just had a filling meal. Just as a tall figure stepped into my room, I breathed a couple of times into my palm, just trying to ensure that my breath did not smell like lunch. I know who he is, his presence familiar although we only started talking about three weeks ago.
“Hello,” he said in his usual soothing and deep voice, a gentle and sincere smile pushing his cheeks further apart from each other. He sat himself on the chair facing me, his movements slow, gentle, and calm. The room was filled with a reassuring aura.
Without asking, he began talking about his past, about how he used to be so different, about how he desired for a change for the better, about how he is finding his place in a life he decided to start anew.
His recounts were interesting, his face changing in the most subtle way as he reflected. A knitted brow when he experiences frustration in his memories, a twitch around the corner of his mouth when he recalls a comical moment, a shift in his eyes as he remembers an upsetting instant.
Seeing these subtle changes in his expression was as entertaining to me as a lighthearted television comedy, the kind you watch after a full meal, the kind that puts you to sleep in a fleeting and impractical dream, the kind that you wake up from feeling surprised that sleep had occurred.