Coffee Grinder - Awakening (3.)

I stand and wait for a fleeting moment

until it comes, unexpectedly and suddenly, like a wave

strange music in the distance and a sea of white flowers

passing through the silence of the night, passing the sleeping world

and I, a traveler hidden in the safety of the lantern light

will be able to think with a smile:

"May it never end!"

I stand and want to capture a fleeting moment

as it wanders down the street, laughter and the clinking of glasses

fragments of conversation and the rustling of butterfly wings

the tenderness hidden in a lily flower

the light in the window waiting for the children to come home

and I, a wanderer on the corner, can think to myself:

"No, don't let it end!"

I stand and keep missing the fleeting moment

it flickers like snowflakes outside the window

wandering like laughter that has lost its way in reality

and returns, unhappy, from the closed door

and I, a wanderer with my head bowed

try in vain to hold it back.

 

 

One by one, the circus performers fell blissfully asleep by the fire. The director, Mr. Jsoucí, watched them for a moment with an indulgent, kind gaze, then stood up and picked up his hat.
"I'm going to go too," he announced with a smile. 

"You should rest too. I think we all deserve it after today."

Valérie looked up at him and wished him good night.
"Good night," he replied. "And don't forget, time is running out!" He tapped his watch meaningfully. Then he left, with a dignified but very joyful gait.

 

He was the most likable of all the circus performers. Valérie guessed what I was thinking again.
"They know very well why he's the director," she said quietly.

She lay down, propped herself up on her elbows, and looked up at the sky. Her long hair flowed down her back like a black stream. Somewhere in the distance, a tower clock struck.
We both heard it, but I don't think either of us was paying attention to what time it was. Our time together was simply too beautiful to be limited by anything.

 

"Time really flies," Valérie said when we sat down nearby and watched the narrow strip of light above the horizon. 
"Days fly by, months fly by, seasons fly by... And it's getting faster and faster. Especially where you live."
"When I arrived, it was Easter," I said. "And now it feels like summer is in full swing."
She laughed.

 

"Yes, you're absolutely right. And Christmas will be here before we know it. I'm already looking forward to it. Say hello to everyone for me, especially your grandmother. And tell her that on the day I meet her in person, I'll be so happy that roses could start blooming on this trampled meadow!"

With a sad smile on her lips, Valerie uttered a statement I didn't understand. I wanted to understand, I wanted to ask, I wanted an explanation, but at that moment I heard a desperate girl's cry.
"Katka!"

 

I looked back at the place where the other circus performers were sleeping, only to find that the meadow had emptied in the meantime and the dark sky was beginning to lighten as if someone had spilled the first cup of white daylight. I noticed that the leaves on the distant trees were beginning to turn golden. The stars were slowly fading.

"How long have I been here, Valérie?"

Again, instead of answering, she just smiled as if it didn't matter. And again the call, this time with far greater urgency.
"Katka!!!"

 

I turned to Valérie with an apology on my lips. I didn't want to leave that beautiful, soft meadow. But Valérie's mysterious, slightly sad smile assured me that she had guessed my thoughts exactly and understood them.
And then there was nothing. Just a strange greenish-black darkness. It seemed to me that I had spent years in this unusually pleasant company. And when I suddenly found myself lying with my hand under my head, my face against the legs of an old wardrobe in my grandmother's attic, the question of how old I actually was was the most important thing on my mind at that moment.

"But it doesn't matter," I said to myself after several futile attempts to figure out my current age, and turned toward the warm hand that had just touched my shoulder. It was Milena, with tears in her eyes.

 

"Katka, Katka! Should I call an ambulance?" She was almost crying.
"An ambulance? Why?" I asked in surprise.
She gave me a strange, suspicious look.
"You don't know what happened?!"
I shook my head. A moment ago, I couldn't even remember how old I was. I felt as if I had just been dropped here from another planet, millions of light years away.

"Well..." Milena looked uncertain. "You fell, you know."
I fell?!
"Nonsense."
"No, Katka. You were unconscious for about a minute. I tried to revive you, I didn't know what to do. You scared me."

 

She helped me to my feet. My head was still spinning a little. And standing in front of me was that strange coffee grinder. And the handle wasn't spinning anymore.
"We have to get out of here!"
Milena's face suddenly took on a suspicious urgency, while I was learning to stand on my own two feet, which didn't feel like I'd had since birth. It seemed more like someone had just planted them there and I was learning how to use this brand new gift.

"Why so fast?" I muttered. After that experience in the beautiful meadow, the whole world suddenly seemed gray and mundane.
"Because you look like you're about to faint again, and that's not allowed!" Milena dismissed me sharply and led me out of the attic by the shoulders.

 

I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret from my grandmother, but I wasn't allowed to. Milena immediately reported what had happened in the attic during our attempts to grind coffee. This, of course, frightened my grandmother, who immediately called an ambulance, while Milena asked me in detail for my name, address, age, and other personal information, commenting on my brief answers with, "Well, at least that's something."

When the paramedics arrived, they just made fun of me. Apparently, I looked like I was faking it to them. Nevertheless, they took me to the nearest hospital and questioned me in the ambulance about what was hurting me. I showed them the ring on my finger, which had started to swell suspiciously during the trip. One of the paramedics took my finger and pulled it sharply.
"It's not broken, miss, don't be silly," he said curtly.

 

I then underwent several examinations, where they suspected me of everything from alcoholism to epilepsy. Fortunately, none of this was confirmed.
When, after several humiliating questions, the doctor finally asked me if anything hurt, I showed him my finger, which was now almost twice its original width. He did the same thing the paramedics had done in the ambulance, then said, "It's not broken. If you want, you can go somewhere to have it looked at." And then I was taken back to my grandmother's, where Milena was waiting impatiently for me, blaming herself for the whole situation for a long time afterward.

 

The next day, we went to the hospital again because my finger hadn't returned to its original size and had started to hurt badly. An X-ray confirmed the fracture, and I got a splint. That was the end of the story. At least for now.