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Description
Halfway through some summer night of considerable chill, and after the city of S. had long fallen asleep under the black and gray cloud cover of its lover hovering overcast above its sultry body of lights, Allen alighted at the still very much lively and boisterous train station bringing along nothing from his provenance save for a batter suitcase and a literature degree. Having stepped his foot for the first time on those yet to be explored grounds Allen silently took the oath of making this unfamiliar territory the new place for him to put down roots and grow and thrive, like a tender green tree hungry after years of deprivation for all the gifts it could ever be granted by the light of the sun.
In this battered suitcase of his, Allen carried a great deal of incongruous things. Academic trophies and commendations entangled with undergarments and mindlessly folded clothes had kept company to neatly written notebooks, pens and much more other knickknacks throughout the entire train ride, whilst memorabilia of a hard college student life had been securely tucked away in internal pockets too deep and isolated for Allen to think about rummaging in again. Amongst all these of Allen’s less than precious and not at all precious belongings, one very wished to be left behind but still solemnly kept and precariously guarded keepsake laid: an antique Webley Revolver, a longtime family heirloom that had been considered as the crown of the family, passed down from father to son until one particular son, a disgrace to the family and a father to Allen had used this very crown to dethrone his lovely queen.
In the sole companionship of his luggage Allen commenced his stroll about the station, in search of a means to carry him home. Of course, the dead-end street semi with the peeling frontage and the small weedy garden that Allen had rented was quite different from the picture of the imaginary home that he had in mind. During a school trip when he was still in junior high, his eye had caught a little house in white, nestled in the middle of a field full of neatly mowed grass and patches of flowers. From this moment and ever since, Allen’s heart had been committed to this very dream of having a house like this for himself but as long as his savings were barely existent lodging a room in previously described dead end street semi would have to do.
At the sudden calling of a rather familiar voice reaching for him through the voices and the noises and the rumpus that both humans and vehicles made, Allen turned his head to the direction of the exclaiming man just in time to see his best friend Sid proceeding towards him, with his arms wide open and a smile on his face.