1 The Usual Excursion

I open my eyes as the morning rays of sunshine annoy my face and slowly raise myself into a sitting position. Taking one hell of a deep breath, my legs slide out of the sheets and fall onto the floor; a loud thud entering my ears. Proceeding to then raise myself off the bed, I slowly walk towards the window of my room, not a single thing on my body. Sliding the curtain a bit out of the way, my eyes fall on the street below, my thoughts grabbing hold of my mind then & there.

This world is beautifully pathetic. Despite the numerous technological advancements of our society, people are still as crooked, selfish and greedy as before. A human's fundamental nature is something that is built into the very fabric of our existence. Humans are selfish. Humans are greedy. Humans are... emotional.

Taking a pause in order to sigh, I mumble through a few words. "Open, half-window." As the voice gets recognized in the mechanism, it follows my command. With the abnormal height of the window panels, half-way up was enough for me to lower my body in order to rest my arms on the windowsill as I enjoyed the fresh air and the same old view.

Perhaps, we are meant stay in this form. Perhaps, humans should remain animals that lose control to their baser instincts, emotions, what-not. With the global human population nearing 9 billion people, I can't help but be reminded of something I read.

A particular psychologist in days of old, Gordon Exner stated in 1952 the following words in his certain famous thesis: "There are six billion people on Earth, all of their psychological states, tendencies, and personalities are so vastly different. Which means, that there are six billion kinds of psychological states, tendencies and personalities... All humans are unique."

This peculiar stance, however, changed in his last thesis which he wrote before dying, the final words being: "In truth, that is just six billion ways of expressing a person. Humans are all the same."

These words hold such power that their echoes can still be heard within the depths of not just my mind, but my soul. Despite the differences between the people, despite the classifications society places upon us individuals, we're all the same. Be it a journalist, office worker, husband, corporate manager, caretaker. Even if it's not just our social standing in the hierarchy, while we grow with different influencing factors, the end result of our personalities slowly mold into what is socially acceptable as a result of a vast majority.

Doesn't that mean I can be just like everyone else?

I zone back in and my lips break into a wry smile as I realize that my overthinking has once again taken over me. An occurrence that seemingly began to be a norm for me ever since...then. I waste no time walking away from the window, leaving it open. My feet dragging themselves across the floor towards the bathroom, stopping themselves once I am inside. My head raised upwards, allowing me to take a look at myself once more, my now black and straight, messy hair reflecting through the mirror granted me a minor sense of nostalgia, to a time where I had brown curls instead. I allowed for my blue eyes to remain, however, for both a specific goal in mind as well as for sentimental value.

Blue eyes make people subconsciously believe there is something good about a person, a belief probably formed by the peaceful blue sky we see quite often in our everyday lives. A belief I enjoy utilizing for my gains. I waste no time in washing my face and brushing my teeth as I then proceed to go back into my room to get dressed and head out. Only that, before I do, I look at the piles of paper as they remind me of my past, forcing me to let out a quiet mumble.

"I am so tired of this world."

These words didn't escape my lips as a result of some sort of act of being a victim, or giving up, really. They were straightforward, and honest. Having escaped from the hell I grew up in, the last thing I'd do is give up on the life I have granted myself, as well as a promise I have need to keep.

My past is something that not a single soul should know, I'll keep it that way if I have to.

Having washed myself up, I slowly proceed to make my way back to the room, towards dear a closet of mine. Raising my hand and laying it on the scanner, the lock opened and the two small doors slid apart to reveal my wardrobe. Gazing at the options I have before me, only to realize, there isn't much point. Much of my attire consist of elegant and classic clothing: shirts, dress-pants, ties, and the like. It doesn't take long for me to pick out my favorite set.

The outside is relatively cold, it's a rather windy autumn season, with winter right about the corner, which allowed me to put on my black, turtle-neck top, coupled with black dress-pants and naturally, black dress shoes. Before I am finished being judged, I also put on a sleeved black cloak atop my shoulders, using the decorated silver chain which wrapped around my upper chest, to keep it in place. For someone who just mentioned a hand-scanner, I've got quite the ancient style, hm?

As I finally got dressed, I leave the building of where my apartment was, and stop for a moment as I take in the fresh air, looking at the sight before me. Older people, simple adults, children, all are gathered before me in identifiable cliques & groups. Standing in front of a food stand, is a dysfunctional family, though 'taboo' would fit plenty better. Right across the street from them, is an uninterested male on a date, makes me want to give some pity to the female who clearly cares about him. Disgusting bastard.

As I stop observing the spectacle around me, I finally begin walking towards a favorite café of mine in the neighborhood in a confident stride despite my morning laziness. First impressions of a person form subconsciously, and by behaving and dressing in a certain manner, it makes it easier to manipulate the first thoughts a person has about you, though, not always successfully.

The aristocratic & confident stride I had pushed any onlookers away from me almost naturally; nobody would ever bother wearing clothes that people wore over half a thousand years ago. Besides, they aren't exactly easily accessible.

My walk there is fairly uneventful, a relatively boring sight as far as I am concerned with the exception of a few, marginal points of interest. As such, after a dozen or so minutes of walking, I finally stumbled my way in front of one of my favorite establishments, a cozy and old-styled café. As I walk up the few steps of stairs and open the door, I hear the all-familiar ring of a rather high pitched bell as I proceed to head inside and towards the counter. At the dark wooden counter which was placed between two bookshelves stood a worker I have yet to recognize, though as my legs get me closer, I soon begin to drown out the thought of who she is in favor of recognizing her substantially good looks.

As I stop before the counter, I rest my arm on it as I slightly shift my center of gravity towards it, in other words, leaning against it as I was about to begin getting my order, only to be beaten to it by her.

"G-good morning...sir. Is there... something you want?"

If I wasn't directly looking at her as I arrived before the counter, the fact that I felt like she interrupted sure made me do it. Perhaps the gaze of my eyes proved too much for the girl, though that would be unusual since none of other workers were like that.

Her voice was sweet, not too high-pitched and her tone wasn't that filled with naivety despite her body language. Judging by her micro-expressions as well as the initial stuttering with the added lack of confidence, I can conclude that she is a point of interest, and that she seems to be new.

Before responding to her question, I form a little bit of tension for the new worker by stopping my leaning and instead proceeding to stand straight, facing her, and by looking directly into her eyes, I manage to get out a fluster out of her, revealing my answer afterwards as I slightly tilt my head to the side and let out a small smile.

"Good morning; while there is something I want, I am not quite sure many customers would feel particularly happy to be asked in such a manner." - I wink. - "In any case, I would like the homebrew coffee you make here as well as some whiskey, as usual." In order to fluster her further, I make it seem as if I was done with my order with just that, hoping for a little bit of panic from the girl. Evidently, after turning around and making a few steps, only to look back again, it worked. The girl was busy trying to say something amidst her confusion only for me to interrupt her with a renewed smile.

"I am teasing you, new girl. Go tell Barbara that Louis is here. Louis Durand. She'll understand."

With that, I walk off from the counter in search of a seat. A little bit of manipulation to reach the desired outcome of a sweet revenge is... addicting as usual.