The Meeting.

He was feeling more and more nervous as he walked down the deserted street, his hand trembling because of the chilly gust that had just reached his neck, but also trembling because of the anticipation that had taken over his mind for the last few hours. Every time he walked under a street lamp, his face shone with determination, not showing that his insides were as steady as a wind chime during a stormy night.

Each step drew him closer to where he was headed, and each step resonated across the street as a sound of hope. The hope that there were still things in life that would make your heart pound wildy at the very thought of it; the hope that there were still things in life worth a second thought, and that made you hold your breath, heavy with expectation.

He arrived at a gate built out of white metal bars. It creaked a little as he pushed it. He walked and climbed one, two, three, four... Seven steps. He arrived at a small landing.

That was it. All those days of preparation, of  being cautious, of taking each appropiate step... All of that had boiled down to this. This was his moment. He took a deep breath, and exhaled. He hesitated for a moment, as he finally made up his mind. He knocked once, twice. The sound of his knuckles on the cold, old wood was insufferable for him. Fifteen painful seconds went by, and as he reluctantly raised his hand to knock once more, the door opened and the short silhouette of a man with short, brushy, garying hair with a matching moustache was revealed. "Come on in, and have a seat. It's good to see you", he said. As he opened the door even more, he gave him a firm handshake and signaled him to come in. Feeling slightly at disconfort, he entered a room that was not very well lit by a lonely lamp in a corner, nextto two couches he was supposed to sit in; which he did.

The man sat rightacross him, and stared him down as though scanning him. There was a minute or two of an abolute and almost awkward silence that claimed posession of the room, as he twiddled his fingers in a nervous fashion and the man just remained silent, observant. They had a very polite exchange of pleasantries, and compared opinions on the weather and travelling dares, for he had just arrived from a long journey. Just as he thought that he should just get up and get out of there, the sound of a door being opened came from a small corridor to his left.

That was it. The actual moment of truth had come. Surprisingly, he was no longer nervous. The moments of tension while in presence of the man had managed to give him the perspective that things could have turned out much, much worse. He was there after all, wasn't he? The meeting had been arranged successfully. All was good, so he waited. And as he did, the person behind the door approached. The corridor was poorly lit, so he couldn't even make out a defined figure, nor a color.

But still, he knew. Holding that thought dearly in mind, he smiled.