I live in a good neighbourhood. I rent a flat on my own\u2013 a big thing in this city. There\u2019s a small residents-only park in the courtyard. My balcony overlooks it directly. I\u2019m in the centre. At night, ambient lights flicker in my neighbours\u2019 flats. I don\u2019t see them often but they\u2019re there. Or at least their lights are. My job is remote and well paid. Mostly consists of client emails and market performance analysis. Only requirement is that I sit by my laptop and respond quickly. I get my food and groceries delivered on demand. On Mondays I make a big order for the upcoming week\u2019s essentials. Drivers leave it by the doorstep. I never see them. Sometimes, I smell their sweat or the other orders they haven\u2019t yet delivered. There weren\u2019t that many reasons for me to go out. My neighbourhood has it all. My block has everything I need.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe I conditioned myself to think that. Truth is, something strange is happening. I can never go past my street. When I reach the intersection, ahead of me are three exact copies of my stripe. They spread out like a cross. Same signs in all directions saying Fuldastra\u00dfe. My house is always in the middle, right hand side of the street. Combined there are 8 buildings here. Two sandy yellow, one white, one brown with brick embroidery, and four gray ones. Mine is grey. On the corner there\u2019s a convenience store. Opposite my house there\u2019s a pharmacy vending machine. A cinema on another corner. People walk through the streets but they all have their headphones on. Those without still ignore me, caught by something in the distance. As if there\u2019s anything more there. Something beyond Fulda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s been going on for months. I haven\u2019t left my block in some time, but I only tried to in September. It\u2019s February now. Trees are bare again. In the cold I shed too many thoughts. When fall comes around I usually leave for Thailand. Winters are too hard here. I had my flight to Bangkok on the 5th. I strolled with my suitcase through the same street for hours. Lost in an entry-less labyrinth of the same. I panicked a bit, I have to say. My thoughts rushed to the LSD I\u2019ve been microdosing the month before. I work better when I\u2019m high. Or maybe it was the Ayahuasca I did with Jakob \u2013 the CEO \u2013 last winter. Our revelations really got the Q4 going. My firm skin steamed, and I was sweating more with each intersection passed. No soul stood anywhere near. Suitcase wheels rolling through the cobblestone rang in an echo. Like an egg timer about to end. In front of me the same picture unfolded until the horizon. Fuldastra\u00dfe, Fuldastra\u00dfe, Fuldastra\u00dfe. Same behind me, same in front.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ran into Heimgetr\u00e4nke, the corner store. Windows were covered by cosmic blue wallpaper and pixelated beer bottles. A loud bell sounded as I entered. Everything looked normal. Six fridges of alcohol and a single ice cream freezer. I went up to the cashier gripping a singular Snickers in hand. Plexi glass still divided the counter, remnant of the pandemic. Slender silhouette blurred stood there looking at me. I couldn\u2019t see his face. He was speaking on the phone, or mumbling to himself in a language I couldn\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t even know how to ask that without sounding crazy. Was there anything weird you\u2019ve noticed on your way to the shift today?\u201d I saw his hand move beyond the glass. A smoked brown palm pointed towards my Snickers. I handed it over.
\u201cI\u2019m not insane. But, I can’t leave this place. Any time I reach the end I\u2019m in the same place I started with.\u201d Fear slipped in some of my vowels. His silence weirdly calmed me down.
\u201cIs that all?\u201d His blurred words bounced on my side of the counter. I\u2019m here every other day and I still don’t know his name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo jokes man, I\u2019m being serious. How do I get out of Fulda?\u201d
Neon green screen spoke to me saying 1,49 EUR, I handed him a two and left.
A pearl white figure stared at me from a balcony on the other side of the street. I stood on the empty slice of asphalt, staring right back at it. After a closer inspection I saw it was someone\u2019s ski suit left to dry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I called my mother. We don\u2019t speak much, but if there ever was a time to reach out it was now. Signals rang one after another. They kept going past the usual amount. At times I felt they changed rhythm. As if to send me a message. Each reminded me of the beating of my heart, I couldn’t really feel it at that time. I sat there on the curb staring into the white letters saying \u201cMama.\u201d On closer inspection the pixels moved ever so slight. It never disconnected, but it didn\u2019t go anywhere either. So I sat there looking at the bare tree directing in and out of the intersection. Street ended and started again, arms spreading like a star. I did a few more rounds and knocked on windows. I only saw TV screens\u2019 reflections on lace curtains. Some bombs pathing the Middle East. All the same stuff. No humans inside. I gave up around 10 PM. I had to answer a couple of emails I planned to send out in the BER Tempelhof Lufthansa Lounge. At night, thoughts found their way inside my head regardless of any attempts to spin away. At 3 AM I popped 2mg of Alprazolam. Xanax brought me a sense of calm no other endeavor could. I have a memory of laying in grass as a child, surrounded by a fortress of trees in my backyard. I stared into the sky, and all the world fit into my eyeball. That\u2019s how Xanax made me feel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My psychiatrist \u2013 Dr. Scratchoff \u2013 always had a light hand in the art of prescription writing. We never saw each other. He\u2019s been with me since \u201816. Closest I\u2019ve ever gotten to him was asking about the bookshelf behind his Zoom camera. You can barely see them, since his head eats up most of my screen, but I\u2019ve noticed them a lot. They were all neatly organized by color from cold to warm tones. Warm on top, just like the Baikal. I imagined that’s how all psychiatrists live. Like frozen lakes with a thick layer of ice needed to deal with others dropping their shit on them.
\u201cThey are industry books. Mostly for decoration. since everything\u2019s online now. But I prefer having the real thing you know. There\u2019s only as far as digital can get you. As per usual, your prescription code will arrive by SMS.\u201d I fell asleep looking at figures swaying in windows opposite of my flat. Branches swayed them in and out of my view. It was hard to focus on just one. That was the first day of the Fulda prison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s been 160 days since. I\u2019m starting to see some patterns, but it could also be my mind tricking me. At exactly 21:13 I hear someone locking their bike. It’s an invasive metallic sound. The moment I look into the courtyard there\u2019s no one there. Only clue is the main door closing. On some days I\u2019ve stared into the yard like a Polish elder, waiting for the bike. As soon as I blinked, or got distracted by the tree I heard the click. Work isn\u2019t bothering me. As long as I reply to shapeless persons\u2019 messages in time I\u2019m okay. My days blend into a puddle of the same. Food delivery still works. I have plenty of choices. Sometimes Uber Eats, sometimes Liferando. My groceries keep arriving, and the expiration dates on them keep changing. Life seems to move without me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I live in a good neighbourhood. I rent a flat on my own\u2013 a big thing in this city. There\u2019s a small residents-only park in the courtyard. My balcony overlooks it directly. I\u2019m in the centre. At night, ambient lights flicker in my neighbours\u2019 flats. I don\u2019t see them often but they\u2019re there. Or at […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":24951,"template":"","categories":[64,10],"class_list":["post-24822","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-33","category-prosa"],"yoast_head":"\n