change

He has returned and he was slightly afraid.

The place was dark. The setting sun filtered by the foliage shone through the broken window panes at an angle casting a red mist at the end of the corridor. Brownian motion was in play as light reflected off the surface of dust particles. He padded silently along the dark corridor; brushing his fingers softly against the wall. He could feel the flakes of dried paints; without even looking at them he knew that they were red in colour. He had painted the wall himself before had he made the decision to leave. He was sprucing up the house with a new coat of paint for his fiancé when the letter came. He had been anticipating it.

Clutching it dearly and slightly crumpling its edges, he excitedly tore opened the envelope. He was successful in his overseas posting application! He could see doors of opportunities opened to him as he scrutinized his one way ticket out of this place where people have to slough for their whole life just to make ends meet. He had to make a decision. That night, he packed his stuffs and left the place which would have been his home; leaving behind his past and the things that he cherished.

He left. He was afraid when he left.

Now the place is deserted. The knocking of his polished leather shoes against the cold concrete which echoed down the emptiness was the only disturbance to the chilling stillness of the place. His tailored suit was a stark contrast to the dilapidated corridor. He doesn’t belong here anymore.

Staring into space between the window and himself, the scene before him began to change. The cold silent void was suddenly replaced by a warm lively atmosphere. He could see children running around and jostling along the corridors. He could hear the rackets stirred by the kids; a dysfunction orchestra of small pattering feet, childish laughter and a couple’s conversation. He could see the man playing with his kids, acting their age while struggling to have a conversation with his wife above the din. Clad in a simple polo tee drenched in sweat and worn out jeans, the man had something he did not have. The man was happy. When the man turned to look at him straight in the eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

He was looking a happier version of himself.

He lowered his eyes diverting them away from the stare of the man. He shook himself out the daze and when he looked up from the floor, the corridor was quiet again. Was that what he would have been if he had chosen to stay? Why is he not as happy as the man when he was the one with more money? Where is his fiancé now? How is she doing? Is he regretting his decision to leave? Would he be happier if he had stayed to lead a simple life? He wasn’t sure. He has no basis for comparison.

His face softened for a second. Like clockwork, he snapped his heels and turned to face the exit. The warmth in his eyes was gone - forever. He had put on his mask again. The mask which he had never taken off since the moment he made the decision to leave. He stepped out of the old building to be greeted by an army of heavy machinery.

“Ok boys. Nobody’s inside the building. You guys can bring down this place. This building should not be standing in the way of money by sunrise.” His voice trailed and was soon drowned by the noise of the turning gears and hydraulic pumps. With that sentence, he buried his past with the ruins of the building.

He was afraid when he left. He was afraid that he would become a different person that his old self would not be able to recognize. He was right to be afraid.