The Cover of Darkness
by Calla Smith
Remi felt utterly alone as she walked down the empty, dark sidewalk, coming home late after a long day of work. She was the last person on the bus waiting to get off at the final stop, and the empty streets felt like an invitation for all the things her parents had always warned her about if she was out late alone. She didn’t like the fact that the lights were still on in the construction site on the corner. She didn’t like the way that her shoes echoed on the pavement in the silent air. She didn’t like knowing that she had no choice but to complete this routine day after day if she wanted to keep her job and survive.
She had thought that Wednesday was just another late night at the office until the man sitting next to her on the bus had started talking to her and inching ever closer, putting his arm around the back of her seat. She had been so uncomfortable that she had gotten off to wait for the next bus even though she was dead tired. She couldn’t take any chances of being alone in her dark, sleeping neighborhood with him.
Now, at least there were only a few more blocks left, and Remi couldn’t for the life of her remember if she needed anything from the supermarket so she wouldn’t stop. She didn’t care if she never ate again, just as long as she could lay her head down on the pillow and drift off to sleep. She glided in and out of the pools of light cast on the dark streets by the lampposts until a voice startled her from the shadow under the tree.
“Do you have a cigarette?” the man asked, stepping halfway into the light. Remi couldn’t make out his face, but his shape seemed somewhat familiar, like someone she had met long ago. She stepped back and tried to place his voice in her memory.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I didn’t think so. I’ve never seen you smoke.”
“Sorry, have we met?” Remi glanced anxiously around, but not even the occasional dog being taken out for a last-minute walk graced the empty city blocks. The shadows moved across his face, and she made out a flash of white teeth and a brief smile.
“No, not formally. I’m Oliver. I live over there, on the next block. I think I bumped into you once or twice in the supermarket. You just recently moved to the neighborhood.”
“Yes,” she said. “A few months ago.” Before that, the long bus rides through the never-ending cityscape that marked the beginning and the end of all her days had been inconceivable. Now, there was no way she could escape them. The only apartment she could afford was in this neighborhood far away from her job, so she left in the pre-dawn darkness and came back at night.
“You’re one of the last people in the neighborhood to come home,” he told her. “So, I always wait to keep an eye out. Make sure you get home alright. I just wanted you to know in case you see me sometime.”
Remi wasn’t sure what to say, but she mumbled a thank you and said goodbye. As he retreated into the shadows and she took out her keys, ready to insert them into the lock. The whole encounter struck her as so strange that she wondered if any of it had ever happened or it was just her tired mind searching for something to hold onto, a blanket of security to ease her journey home. But having someone watching her those evenings didn’t make her feel any safer at all.
She had thought that Wednesday was just another late night at the office until the man sitting next to her on the bus had started talking to her and inching ever closer, putting his arm around the back of her seat. She had been so uncomfortable that she had gotten off to wait for the next bus even though she was dead tired. She couldn’t take any chances of being alone in her dark, sleeping neighborhood with him.
Now, at least there were only a few more blocks left, and Remi couldn’t for the life of her remember if she needed anything from the supermarket so she wouldn’t stop. She didn’t care if she never ate again, just as long as she could lay her head down on the pillow and drift off to sleep. She glided in and out of the pools of light cast on the dark streets by the lampposts until a voice startled her from the shadow under the tree.
“Do you have a cigarette?” the man asked, stepping halfway into the light. Remi couldn’t make out his face, but his shape seemed somewhat familiar, like someone she had met long ago. She stepped back and tried to place his voice in her memory.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I didn’t think so. I’ve never seen you smoke.”
“Sorry, have we met?” Remi glanced anxiously around, but not even the occasional dog being taken out for a last-minute walk graced the empty city blocks. The shadows moved across his face, and she made out a flash of white teeth and a brief smile.
“No, not formally. I’m Oliver. I live over there, on the next block. I think I bumped into you once or twice in the supermarket. You just recently moved to the neighborhood.”
“Yes,” she said. “A few months ago.” Before that, the long bus rides through the never-ending cityscape that marked the beginning and the end of all her days had been inconceivable. Now, there was no way she could escape them. The only apartment she could afford was in this neighborhood far away from her job, so she left in the pre-dawn darkness and came back at night.
“You’re one of the last people in the neighborhood to come home,” he told her. “So, I always wait to keep an eye out. Make sure you get home alright. I just wanted you to know in case you see me sometime.”
Remi wasn’t sure what to say, but she mumbled a thank you and said goodbye. As he retreated into the shadows and she took out her keys, ready to insert them into the lock. The whole encounter struck her as so strange that she wondered if any of it had ever happened or it was just her tired mind searching for something to hold onto, a blanket of security to ease her journey home. But having someone watching her those evenings didn’t make her feel any safer at all.
Calla Smith lives and writes in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She enjoys reading, cooking, spending time with friends and family, and continuing to discover all the forgotten corners of the city she has come to call home. She has published a collection of flash fiction, What Doesn’t Kill You, and her work can also be found in several literary journals such as Five on the Fifth, Cosmic Daffodil, and Health & Coffin, among others.