Four Seconds

Standing on the terrace of the building where he lived, he inhaled the night air and thought about everything he had lost in life. He reflected on the emptiness the future offered and the pain caused by the hollow feeling in his chest. But the wind grew stronger, and with it came good memories.

He remembered how much he loved the smell of coffee, oatmeal pancakes, and honey in the morning. It was a warm, comforting scent. He recalled all the smells he had ever encountered. He liked smells; they gave things personality. The scent of freshly ironed clothes, warm bread, the perfume of someone you love, any fragrance carried by the wind that brings a good memory. The smell of morning. Ah, yes! Mornings had a smell — a unique, indescribable scent, impossible to put into words. It was a smell you could only catch before the sun warmed the day, while the grass was still wet with dew.

He remembered all the hugs. He basked and rejoiced in those memories. He liked warm, tight, comforting hugs. Comforting, like the smell of pancakes, coffee, and honey. He always felt at home in a hug. He needed a hug and was certain that a single embrace — no matter who it came from — would be enough to cure his sadness and fill the void in his chest.

He wished to wake up the next morning in a home and wondered where he could find oatmeal at that hour. The right smell would give meaning to everything, and if everything were in its place and life made perfect sense, maybe he would even find the energy to look for his friends.

He thought of his few friends, the loose laughter, the joy during their rare gatherings, and the lies. He liked lies. Lies gave flavor to things. They made everything more colorful, fragrant, and enticing. People didn’t understand the value of a good lie; they condemned it out of ignorance. They condemned it because they refused to accept the fact that no one — no one — likes the truth. They only liked pretending they did.

He wished the next day would be April Fool’s Day so he could lie without judgment. Without caring, he decided that as soon as he ate his pancakes, drank his strong coffee, and breathed in the morning’s perfumed air, he would lie as if there were no day after that one. He would lie cathartically. Contrary to worldly conventions, he would purify his spirit with lies. Holy lies, sacred lies that would free him from the servitude he was trapped in. He was tired of his masks, tired of pretending he didn’t lie. And happily, he realized that all his unspoken truths were, in fact, grand lies. That thought made him feel joyful, and he thought the next day would feel lighter since his commitment to truth had proven to be the biggest lie of all.

He rehearsed all the lies he intended to tell: “That outfit looks great on you; no, your breath doesn’t smell bad; I loved your haircut; you did a great job, intern; I’m going to Italy.”

Italy…

He had always wanted to visit Italy. He dreamed of riding a gondola, as he had once read in a poem by Castro Alves. Perhaps in Italy, he would find love — a love that spoke Italian, a love that sang in Italian. He decided that after eating his oatmeal pancake, drinking his strong coffee, breathing in the morning air, and lying until he could no longer distinguish reality from fantasy, he would buy a ticket to Italy and stay there until he found love. His criteria would be simple: he would love the best hug — the best hug with an Italian accent.

Perhaps that was what was missing in his life: love. A love with a warm hug, an Italian accent, and an appreciation for a good lie. A love to share his coffee with every morning.

Yes. It was decided. He would start anew the next day. His sorrows would no longer torment his days; his pains would no longer stretch his hours; and his truths would never cloud his judgment again.

He thought all of this before his body hit the sidewalk.

When they found the lifeless body, disfigured and broken like a child’s toy, in front of the building he once lived in, no one wondered what his last thoughts had been. No one suspected that the bloodied mask his face had become had seconds earlier worn a smile. The passersby only focused on the causes and asked themselves why. Why would someone cut their time short?

“He was so young!” one said.
“He had his whole life ahead of him!” another lamented.
“Life is so beautiful…” a third declared.

Had he not jumped, he would have been delighted to hear so many lies.