I awoke in dreamlike haze, seeping through the silk drapes the setting sun drenched the room in its light. Light rain drizzled on, the soft wind whispered. History had been written, the bullet had been shot, the train was quickly leaving the station, had it ever stopped?
And in a second it’ has all changed, everything.
Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.
“You aren’t a bad person.” she says looking at me, taking a puff of the cigarette in hand, beyond the cafe balcony traffic thundered past, and the thick, humid air hung over the passing people like a blanket.
“My actions where wrong though, its not even the action – it’s the thought process” I reply, my eyes glancing over the cocktail menu, things had progressed quickly from coffee to cocktail jars.
Chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, the walls painted in a deep red that flaked of age, music seduced the dimly lit rooms.
“I just don’t think you’re a bad person” she shrugged to me as she faced the waiter to order. “Everyone is capable of being a bad person … it’s about acknowledging it” I answer, handing my menu back to him.
I light another cigarette and look to the bustling streets below. “I have seen violence so much growing up.. Maybe I’m just used to it, that’s why I resort to it when things get too much”. Her eyes examine my face “I don’t think you are like that. Not everyone becomes what they came from”.