I close the window, shut the curtains of my room, and get back to my bet. I have this automatic gesture to check if the box is under my bed, then I remember someone had taken it some weeks ago to bring it to France. I hate this distressful face. I take my shoes off and cross my legs on the red covering of my bed. The weather is quite nice in London, and I feel comfortable wearing a thin pair of black pants and a red sweat-shirt.
I take the card on the bedside table and open it. I’ve opened it again and again in these past few days. The day is approaching – it’s tomorrow in fact –, and I still don’t know what’s hidden behind those words. I’ve gone through every 12th of May in my entire life, and I still can’t understand what it is about. Even last year. Nothing in particular had happened in May. Nothing more than… Well, nothing. A normal life of distress, fear and hatred of myself.
I lay back in my bed. 12th of May. I don’t understand. It should be about something I have in common with my parents. They don’t know a thing anyway about what I was doing last year in May. And all this is so strange. They had never done something like this, giving me no present but a card. It should be something very valuable hidden underneath. I still remember my parents’ glance on my hands while I was opening the present. They seemed to be waiting for a reaction: like a bursting into tears, or a clapping of hand. But I just kept silent. I hope they weren’t displeased about all that. Anyway, if they wanted a proper reaction, they should have given me an actual present. Not something I could just grasp with my way of thinking. By this present, did they mean that I was doing nothing more than thinking, having no grasp on the actual world? Maybe…
I get more and more worried as I can’t find anything about any 12th May on the Internet. Dates go by without any signification, and I can’t find any event I could relate to what I am supposed to find tomorrow. Anyway, I don’t even know what I am supposed to find.
I go downstairs and speak a bit to Granny, who’s not of any help. I can’t find out if she knows anything or not. There’s fog in her glance and I can’t see through it.
“Have you checked on the Internet?”
“Yes, I have. I can’t find anything.”
“Well, is it all about that date then? Do you have any other clue?”
“No, I don’t thing so. Just this card.”
“There’s nothing more than those words on the card?”
“Well, this picture of a train. I did it when I was young.”
She keeps silent for a while. My brain starts to run wild.
I have to find out before tomorrow.
At 6.35, it will be too late.