Windy City.

The document moved. Stretching. In silence. Almost without a single sound. Slowly. Kissed by the wind. The rain had licked of some important information. The color of blood. An ugly and old rat - hungry and obsessed with food - noticed the object. Eyes with no soul stared at the moving paper. The paper felt uncomfortable. It stopped every movement. There it was, surrendering in the moment. The rat took a bite. Chewed on the substance. The little rats needed some nurturing material. Minutes later the document was transported to a street full of boxes and tons of garbage.   

The dead body had been taken away. According to the police the scene of the crime contained many unknown factors. The investigation could take months. His left shoe was missing. She asked several times how this could have happened. The mobile phone rang a last time. His voice responded. Automatically. She received the mobile phone from the police. She listened to the voice over and over again. She tried to find the answers in the expression of his voice. Nothing. No clue at all. She touched the phone with tender gestures bringing her back to memories of making love.

She decided to visit the street where his dead body had been found. She felt dizzy. Too much for her. She was brave ... she continued walking down the street. The smell of the garbage almost suffocated her. She stumbled. A noise. She heard her name. A strange force pulled her back. A shoe? She bowed. She recognised his shoe. Goose bumps all over her body. The tail of a ... rat?! Oh my God, she felt terrified. She hated rats. A piece of paper. Paper? She approached the spot. Her hand reached for the paper.

Not sure how this could ever happen. In her hands the document. It was wet, contained blood. Some pieces eaten. She stared at the paper. The morning light touched her hand. The content of the paper became more visible. The essence had been stored. The address underlined. She recognised his handwriting. Apparently he added some words. She tried to figure out the meaning. Repairing the pieces of the puzzle, quite a challenge. A scent entered her nose. His fragrance that she once adored soul much. Her throat was dry. Eyes swollen. Tears falling down her cheeks.

The wind was blowing in her ears. The time seemed endless. She felt a presence nearby. He was two meters away from her. Without his body. He could move with the wind. No luggage whatsoever. He wanted to communicate with her. He did not know how. He scanned the environment. Some boxes to work with. She knew that he was around. She did not know how to find a way to reach his soul. The universe observed them. The rat could not grasp the scene. The little rats screamed. They were hungry as hell.

One of the boxes started to roll. Dominated by the wind. She saw how the box was changing its direction. By a mysterious force. Seconds later the box touched her legs. She was afraid. She did not have to. He would never harm her. She realized there would be a major clue in the box. She opened it. Some glasses. A bottle of wine. Seemed to be stock for a restaurant. She noticed a broken glass. A post-it. He put a spell on her. In the early days of their passionate relationship he used to leave loving messages on yellow post-its. She could not believe her eyes.

'I deeply love you, darling', said the post-it, 'please continue my quest'. She turned around. A warm breeze hugged her deeply. She felt how their souls reunited. Just for a moment. A special experience. She would never ever forget this moment. He was passing information to her. Just like that. She concentrated well. All missing letters on the document were spelled. He whispered every single detail into her ear. Kissed her slowly, naughty as he always had been. It characterised his soul.

The kiss was mesmerizing. Goose bumps again. She decided to finish the assignment for him. The document safely stored in her jacket. The old and ugly rat saw how the chances for a delicious paper breakfast diminished. She left the street. Solid as a rock. He let her go. He had faith in her. He always had. He just wished he had said it more often to her. On the walls a strange effect. Two shadows following one body. She felt no longer alone. Focused. She was. He played with her hair. Soft and silk. Oh that perfume. The old rat was not impressed at all. Damned. No cheese. No smile.

By Liesbeth Leysen

Part one: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/another-day-in-paris

Part three: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/haunted-by-the-unexplainable

Part four: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/running-rivers

Part five: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/flashback-clueless-scene