11:15

11:15

He got out of bed and saw the lighthouse being weathered by the sea. He stepped onto the wooden floor, and half-naked as he was, he got out to get some fresh air. There wasn’t anyone to see his nudity anyway. The wooden house was standing bravely between the two shades of blue. A distinctive sight of the area... like the lighthouse maybe.

He walked toward the kitchen to have breakfast. It had to be still morning, judging by the sunbeams. He hated clocks. He didn't even have a watch on. He wanted nothing to do with the dimension of time. That’s why he chose to remove it from his life completely. So, one day, some ticks after he parted ways with Marina, he threw all the clocks in his possession into the rubbish bin. This selfish tick sound that used to torture him had no power there. He opened the fridge to drink some of the sour milk that he used to buy from the town. And I say sour because how could he possibly know when it expires? What really matters, however, is that this milk used to be Marina’s favorite. This soulless carton of milk was bringing something from her presence into the place. Expressive, dark eyes like chocolate and a mouth sweet like honey. He was afraid he'd get a sugar rush with Marina by his side, and every time he blurted it out to her, she smiled happily. In this wooden house, next to the lighthouse, they smuggled their love away in the summer months, when the weather was like now. Only now, Marina wasn’t there.

It’d been around a year since he’d been living in this house alone. Behind it, there was a coastal road he avoided looking at. It frustrated him seeing the cars passing by. The hastiness of civilization could drive him crazy. At the front, the vast horizon calmed him instantly. It could soothe his heart at once. After some time though, he would feel vacant. The immense serenity of the place was difficult to handle alone. His thoughts would start bouncing over his head just by glancing at the point where the sea meets the sky. His mind would sail away like a ship with no destination. His feelings lifted him like a hurricane he couldn’t control. He'd rather have someone to share these moments with. He was unable to put his sentiments in order, and there was no one to help him do so. In a place of absolute freedom, he felt imprisoned within his own self.

He was determined to ignore time. However, it seems it has lots of accomplices. Two days ago, he saw the first swallows go away. Therefore, it must be September, he thought. A hot, stubborn September that refused to let autumn settle in and steal some of the summer charm.

Whenever afternoon arrived, he slept for a while. Perhaps because, at night, sleep no longer visited him. As dusk fell, his soul rejoiced and was filled with mixed emotions, as jumbled as the colors of the sunset. That day, he saw Marina sitting next to him for a while, in the wicker chair beside him on the wooden patio. She was looking at the vast colorfulness with heavy-lidded eyes, while the breeze was tangling her light chestnut hair, as if it envied her for being more beautiful than every sunset. And after a couple of minutes, pitch black covered the place. The terrifying silence was drowned out by the thrum of the waves, which like skilled sculptors were chiseling the rocks with inexhaustible patience. The day went away again, and irritated by the caprices of time, he got into the house. He went up the winding, wooden staircase that creaked under his feet, leading to the attic. From the small window, a bunch of moonbeams was getting in. He opened the drawer of the nightstand and gently took out the wooden box once again. He sat on the bed and leaned his head on the transparent glass of the window, looking at the stars and the various constellations in the night sky.

-Tonight, I’m going to the beach with the girls, Marina’s melodic voice echoed in the back of his head.

-Really? Don’t you want me with you?

-Well, you know. It’ll be just us, catching up. Girls’ talk. You’ll get bored. You can come pick me up at 11 p.m., though. I don’t want to be long. I’ll be waiting on the coastal road.

-Alright, then. I’ll be right there.

He opened the box slowly and stroked the sand, his fingers grazing the bottom.

-Are you coming? Where have you been? Marina’s voice echoed again, tucked away in his subconscious. It’s 11:15 p.m.

- You’re right. I’m sorry. I overslept. I’m on my way.

- Hurry up! I've crafted a little something for you. To you, from me.

- Awesome! I can’t wait!

Ηe snapped back to reality and stroked the sand for a bit longer until he found a tiny scrap of paper, buried like a minuscule treasure.

Only when you manage to count the sand specks will I stop loving you.

He found that box οn the bare ground the same way he found Marina that night. She was dragged away by a car into the thick darkness, the way a raging river sweeps away sticks and branches. Maybe, if he had arrived some ticks earlier…

He shut the box and held it in his arms, ready to spend one more sleepless night. When it dawned, he got out of the wooden house, locking the door with a large, heavy padlock. Inside that house, he achieved the impossible: to stop time.

He headed to the town. He bought a bunch of red roses and visited Marina. For the first time, he let tears run down his cheeks, watering the dry soil nostalgically. As he left, he put on a watch on his left wrist. He set it to 11:15 p.m. He had to keep going…