Neither sadness nor happiness have shown to be a constant state within the human psyche.
Both mental states shift in the subconscious, as the waves have always done when the moon pulls and pushes the sea to become eb and flow.
Yet the feeling of control over this process has remained to be so fragile.
Being overtaken by desires, and plunged into chaos to become stormy and troubled, is a familiar feeling for some.
All of Tamar's life, she felt very fervently that she knew who she was, and that she knew what she wanted to achieve. A cynic might have argued that in spite of set idea's, circumstances can befall anyone, and derail all plans.
Her genius lied in her simplicity, where she based her needs on an elementary principle that could nearly always be satisfied; gathering knowledge.
From the time of Tamar's early childhood, the sensation of understanding information and processing calculations satisfied her immensely.
A book, a text or even a single fact can open a door to a wholly undiscovered world, and even has the capability of leaving a changed consciousness.
A new piece of intelligence, a newspaper snippet or a simple comment in a conversation; trivial entities to those ignorant to their value. Yet to those interested, entities of unparalleled worth.
Forthwith she found herself in such a situation with a small, though significant conversation held within her earshot that would unbeknownst to her, change an uncountable amount of lives.
Truly, even presently, all the details remained crystal clear to her, as if she were listening to it again at this moment.
It was a night like any other. Charing Cross Road was illuminated with countless lights and colours, serving to dazzle the senses and overwhelm a mind set on wandering.
Be that as it may, she has recalled no particular reason to walk along a different alley that evening; noise and crowds consistently aggravated Tamar. Yet on most work days, she chose the fastest route, which so happened to be Charing Cross Road. Not on this particular occasion, however, although the justification was lost to her.
In any event, she meandered down a dark, abandoned lane to shield herself from all the stimuli to find some solitude.
The tranquil environment allowed Tamar to gather her thoughts, as much so that she failed to notice the two men having a frenzied argument outside a building that she couldn't quite manage to identify.
At once she was made aware of their presence, and uncharacteristically hid behind a parked auto; the men were consumed by the subject matter of their bout, and therefore remained occupied.
Their voices, filled with passion and despair, echoed across the pavement.
'I shan't partake! This plan.. These idea's… They are beneath us!' The conviction in the speaker's voice was so powerful the air seemed to shatter.
Despite of the loud sound of his words, it was the emotion in his tone and in his expression that gave him might.
Nevertheless, the reaction of his companion could not be described as more than tepid.
'You dare question his orders?' He uttered with bored indifference. His lack of enthusiasm did not calm his accomplice in the least regardless.
'You dare not to? What will become of us if we continue this path?' Tinged with anguish, the first man persisted his case madly; leading Tamar to question his intent.
Finally, his words seemed to have some effect on his accomplice; who moved suddenly, nearly unexpectedly enough to startle her, to grab him by his bizarre attire, and haul him against the wall.
'You are truly the fool I thought you were, Macnair,' He gritted, angered, through his teeth, 'If you honestly believe you can stand up to the Dark Lord.' Correspondingly to his threatening inflection, a curtain of greasy back hair enclosed his face, and two small dark eyes peeked through, staring keenly with a glint of madness. Even to Tamar, it was positively terrifying.
Nevertheless, the man who was being threatened appeared unimpressed (Although Tamar could've sworn she heard his breath hitch ever so slightly). 'Don't jest, Snape.' A smile bearing a vile set of fangs marred his face. 'Your.. Transgressions were the talk of the town, when you were still licking his boots like the rest of us.' For a brief moment, the man paused. He seemed to be gathering his wits, if she observed correctly. Despite the cruel insult he had dealt to his fellow, the latter remained unchanged. It was almost as if he already knew what the other man (evidently named Macnair) was about to say.
'I know you are in bad faith, as am I.' As it was said, his revelation, was so unsurmountable in its value that it changed the atmosphere between the two of them completely. A tension that had tarnished their company prior had now vanished, leaving a harmonious feeling of understanding.
At a slow pace, the man named Snape released his ally, and withdrew with caution. 'We shall continue elsewhere.'
Finally, the spectacle had ended. Naturally, Tamar assumed this meant she could forget all about this, and could finish her day in peace. Yet the strangest scene unfolded. Snape moved forward suddenly, and grabbed Macnairs arm. Then an odd sensation drifted through the air, as both of them dissipated.
In the present day, Tamar learned a perfectly logical explanation for the physical impossibility that presented itself to her that night. In that very moment, however, she thought she was becoming delirious.
Replaying the events scene after scene, Tamar found her way home in a daze of bewilderment.
There was no rational answer, she knew, for the bedlam she had witnessed a few moments before; but she was not exactly eager on checking herself into a mental hospital. Instead, Tamar recorded all the details of the situation that she remembered; if that had been the end of it, at the very least she could have peace knowing it was all over.
Regrettably, it was far from the end. Nay, it had just began.