The twenty-second floor, past the receptionist on the right, down the hallway with the pantry, third room on the left. It was no where near as cozy or private as the corner office, but still it had its perks; a view of the city in all its splendor a mere swivel of a chair away from the old desk that stood as the centre piece of the entire room, but that was hardly any consolation for him, for it was in this very room that his shackles seemed particularly evident; particularly present.
Squarely between the doorframes he stood, gazing hard into the stillness and emptiness of it all, and like many other times before, he was once again bewildered at his endurance, his determination, his capacity for living like one pieced together of cogs and bolts instead of one born of flesh and blood. Without dwelling on it any further for fear of more questions to which he did not have the answers to, he took his rightful place behind the desk, feet crossed at the ankles as always, and prepared to open the first of many files stacked meticulously at the corner by his assistant. But for some reason unknown, today, unlike any other day, he just could not bring himself to continue.
Effortlessly, with a glancing motion of his fingers, he pushed against the corner of the desk while still seated, turning his back to the mundane repetition of the documents and papers. A moment of quiet contemplation ensued before he stood up to take a small step closer to the edge of his confines; a tinted panel of reinforced glass that stood between him and the world outside, a barrier strong yet in no way unbreakable.
Then down toward the busy streets he peered, where he saw streams of people scurrying about the cityscape like ants in an open-air ant mound, led by their briefcases, bounded at their wrists, without exception; every single one of them. And from the centre of his being, a barely audible sigh rose up and out of his chest, shattering the quiet stillness of the surrounding air as he re-aligned his vision to focus on the vague reflection of the metallic bindings that imprisoned him.
But then he tilted his chin up, leading his eyes away from the land below, and looked out toward the distant skyline from whence the sun had already risen; obscured by slander towers and overwhelming skyscrapers, yet still in no way anything less than beautiful. Mesmerized, he leaned forward even more until his nose was on the verge of touching the window, so close that he could feel his own breath arching back to stroke his lips as it rebounded off the cool, foggy glass. And in that manner, he started to remember.
Into the outskirts he would slip away when his parents were too preoccupied with their duties, and by the lonely apple tree that grew taller with each season at the city’s edge, the one overlooking the orchards that marked the start of the rural areas, he would find her waiting as they had always prearranged, dressed like a princess in her beautiful garbs with a bright smile on her face beaming with both joy and mischief, and much to his relief, not in the least bit angry in spite of his constant, unchanging tardiness.
Together, they would scale that tower of wood and falling leaves unrestrained, soiling their clothes and picking the occasional fruit along the way for a snack in reserve as they made their agile way up, and when they had finally climbed high enough, into the never-ending sapphire sky they would fixate their gaze for hours on end, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had always fascinated them both the greatest.
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