It's been a while since I've done one of these! But last night I got off the computer because it was storming (Fuck you, weather.com) and after the power went out for about half an hour, I felt a little inspired to write something. Rather, I got something in my head that wouldn't leave me alone unless I wrote it out. So I figured I would share! I hope it's a little more, er, compelling than the last installment.
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The irony of questioning the allure of the unknown is not lost on me. Yet it's something we all do sometimes.
There has to be something said for the sheer power that the unknown holds over all of us. Whether it inspires fear or courage, desire of any kind, desire to learn, to understand, to conquer; the unknown always inspires something.
A man is found dead on the floor of his office. Nothing is out of the ordinary in his office, says his secretary, aside from a piece of paper ripped down the middle and written on, left askew on his desk.
What did it say?
It's almost as natural as breathing.
How did he die?
Who could have killed him?
The questions fly out rapid-fire. The unknown is here, and it's powerful. Its clutches sink in quickly, presenting something to be worked out, to become known. To become mundane.
A man is with a woman for 10 years, but discovers he doesn't know her as well as he thinks, and it's abundantly clear that she is the same way as him. Yet instead of investigating his own brand-new unknown, he meets another woman, a greater unknown, and can't help but feel the stronger allure, the stronger pull.
Why?
Is it a higher attraction on a physical level? Is the new woman so much more interesting?
The new woman shares nearly every interest as the man.
Does this make her more of an unknown or less? Does the knowledge of their interests being so similar mean the man will figure her out as one would a math problem? Deduce that because they both like this thing and another thing, that she's bound to like a different thing that he likes? Or will he simply become more interested in how they came to share so many things?
The unknown is powerful indeed.
A woman reads what she interprets as a confession of desire.
A man writes what he knows a woman will interpret as a confession.
As a test. As a test, a man puts the unknown of a woman's reaction against the unknown of fate, of simple chance.
A man is wracked with guilt when he realizes he doesn't know his wife more than a woman he's known for a week, or, rather that he might know this woman more than his wife.
A man confesses his desire for a woman indirectly, assuming she will acknowledge his want and return it in kind. After all, if they share all the same interests, they share interest in each other, certainly.
A man, rejected by a woman, married to a wife he doesn't know anymore, is found in his office, dead. Nothing is out of the ordinary in his office, says his secretary aside from a piece of paper ripped down the middle and written on, left askew on his desk.
What did it say?
"I'm Sorry."
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It's actually not all that long and I feel a little guilty for using double-spacing for it, but that's just kind of my style. I hope it was enjoyable though!
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