Joseph Zozaya

The Vestige of a Nostalgic Inferno

"But, do allow yourself the inward stare of that eye which is exterior to you," the man stated, looking at the shoes of people who passed by in the distance. The other man, whose appearance could only be described as something awkward, or of a nature tangled, at first did not respond but as he readjusted his grimy spectacles and looked at the train in the distance, he allowed himself to utter something. "My perturbation with this 'act', which I shall commit regardless, is merely a part of life, a segment in which I shall always find myself attached. I must be bound to something besides this irrelevant skin."

Smoked drifted into the stagnant air, no one seemed distracted at all by the occurrence, it was long ago accepted, people went about on their way, into boulevards and designated streets, disappearing at disjointed intervals, and in those few minutes the clock tower was entirely shrouded by black train smoke.

Both men grew in apprehension of something, apparently unperceived even by their cognizance.

"You realize that I can not exist any longer, once you relinquish the composition of your very nature!" The awkward man did not seem to pay any diligence to the other man, who was by that time, uncontrollably nervous. "Why is it that you shall even be upon that train, you yourself said that you did not believe in destiny, or anything similar to human fortune, you, filled with a thick set of lies, an utter nihilist!"

Crowds emerged and embraced both men, consuming them and then relinquishing them once again to the proper solitude found in that city.

"To me, you never existed, I myself could not exist within this barren framework, all life is regurgitated."

"No, not at all, it is of course set upon by limits, but each new configuration arises to reclaim that part of emptiness and make it into something else."

"You are nothing to me, you, a mere mirage of my conscience, you are not even a man, look at you, you are the idea of some rigorous student, you have existence only within the limitations of my own mind!"

The awkward man moved towards the station, not even looking back at the other man, who was slowly beginning to decompose, his clothes crumpled like a dusty leaf, then his skin fell to the ground and eventually his skeletal framework was obliterated by the passing steps of people and while surging towards an immanent crowd, the awkward man activated the mechanism of that crude bomb attached to his body, he did not even resolve to smile or look at anyone, he was by then already consumed by another configuration of some lingering discourse within his isolated memory with a man who did not exist.