AN: This might be a bit confusing. I'm testing this kind of writing style in English. I really hope it translates well. Also, this is a longer version of a drabble I made. Hope you enjoy.
The Lonely Man and the Missing Key
The man walked out of the bar, alone. Turning down offers of company and after-party party. He didn't know why his feet suddenly felt restless. But what he did know is that after years of doing the same thing on Christmas eve, it lost its appeal. Getting wasted wasn't a good idea anymore, he already knew it wouldn't make him forget being alone. His family was still in twelve and their mother mandated that if he wanted to be with them for the holidays, he should learn to visit.
But for that man it was a place he'll never be at peace. So he chose to be alone. And if he was less of a coward he would admit that he was lonely. Work and women weren't enough anymore to distract him from that feeling.
His feet led him to an open market filled with late shoppers and families strolling along the street. His feet were sadists, he decided. And he was a masochist for not running away from the scene.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and started wandering at shops, stalls, and even stared at the giant tree, which was filled with lights and ornaments, at the square for a good ten minutes. Thinking it wasn't enough he stared on a minute more.
Sighing then chuckling, he looked away from the tree. The extra minute did not quell the pain that the longing and loneliness caused.
However, at that instance, while he spent that extra minute, gazing blankly at the tree, a key was dropped right behind him. If he had turned after the first ten minutes of staring at the tree, the day would've ended as the lonely man walked home, alone and without a purpose. But the lonely man was desperate enough to spend an extra minute while the owner lost the key and had disappeared into the crowd.
As he turned, he inadvertently step on it, a cracking sound confirmed the destruction his sadist foot had caused. The lonely man picked up the missing key and examined the keychain attached to it. Most of its plastic shell was missing and from what's left of it, he could tell there were red and green paint on it.
The key, he thought, was familiar. He knew he had seen that type of key before. The lonely man looked around in search of a possible owner of the missing key. He found none, so he shoved the key in his pocket and started walking back to the bar.
Little did he know that if he had waited another minute, the owner would appear, frantically searching for it. However, what the frantic owner would find were remnants of the broken keychain. The lonely man and the missing key was nowhere to be found.
But the lonely man walked away without even looking back, a mission in his mind and hand. His sadist feet led him back to the bar, in search for someone that might help him remember where he had seen the key before. A drunken woman with a buzz cut spotted him and after a quick [and hard] punch in his arm and lecturing him of how he was a bad friend by leaving her alone with the easylilies and the assholes they called friends, they sat down and talked about the missing key and its familiarity.
Though amused at the interest the lonely man had taken with the missing key, the drunken woman tried to help by telling him that he was stupid and of course he should thought it was familiar as he carried one like it for years. That she too carried one, pulling hers out from her pocket, rather clumsily.
Her apartment key.
The lonely man and the drunken woman had lived at the same apartment building ever since they arrived at District Two. He stood, ready to leave again but the drunken woman grabbed his arm and asked why it was important. The lonely man didn't know himself why, so he shrugged and told her that but finding the missing key's owner was what he wanted to do the most that evening.
The drunken woman understood what he was feeling. She had been experiencing that empty feeling for years. She thought maybe it'll all work out for him, a smile was on her lips as she watched him walked away.
He found himself leaving the bar, the second time that night. Only, it wasn't loneliness that drove him out but a purpose and no matter how tiny [of a purpose] it was, it kept the longing he felt earlier that evening at bay. The lonely man took another look at the key and now just realised that it was indeed so much like his own key but a different number and letter engraved on it.
The lonely man laughed.
Whoever owned the missing key was living on the same floor and right next door to his apartment. This just proved how bad he was at socialising outside work and a few friends from Twelve and Thirteen. Although, most probably, the owner of the missing key was from Twelve or Thirteen. The new government had assigned housing for those who [served in the war and] wanted to relocate. He laughed some more at the absurdness of the situation. Bottom line was that the lonely man didn't know who his neighbour was.
He had lived a pretty solitary life. He thought about it and he liked it just the way it was. The lonely man wondered when that line of thinking changed.
The missing key in hand, he felt as if there's another change coming. He shook his head, it was just a key. So, he went to the landlord and was told that the lonely man could go and give the owner himself. The frantic owner arrived not long ago asking for the landlord to open the apartment and another copy of the missing key.
A sigh escaped him as he stood in front of the door the missing key was meant for. Raising his hand to knock, he wondered if he's going to regret doing so, he's starting to think surrendering the key to the landlord a better choice. But as he was clinging to that tiny sense of purpose for that evening, he knocked twice and waited.
The door opened and revealed a short blonde girl, eyes blue, and a smile on her lips. He knew her, the blonde neighbour was not the prettiest girl in school back in Twelve but she was friendliest.
He held the missing key up between them and the lonely man smiled at the shoemaker's daughter.
The conclusion of this story will be posted later this week. Thanks for reading.