Claudia and the Night

She was always the last to fall asleep. The whole house was already swaying to the rhythm of her parents' and older sisters' breathing, and she lay in the darkness. She listened to the hiss of air escaping from their lungs, to the ticking of clocks throughout the house, to the strange sounds emanating from outside. And she pondered. She was Klaudia at 16, Klaudia at 20, Klaudia at 30... She saw herself with a man handing her flowers, she saw herself rushing to work, she saw her funeral—with hundreds of people, processions of hundreds of sad people... She always wanted the entire cemetery to be filled with tears when she died, for the sobs and laments to never end. She wanted to die in glory, in admiration, for people to say, "What a woman she was..."

The world looked prettier at night. Minutes passed unchecked, the entire house resting... Klaudia listened to the creaking of the old armchair, stretching her bones after a tiring day of serving her father. She watched the white curtains at the window, sleeping still, silently, secretly. She learned to tell if they were already asleep by the way they folded themselves, by the roughness when she timidly touched them with her fingertips.

Sometimes, when the night seemed especially beautiful, she would hug her teddy bear tightly, cover herself up to her neck with a warm blanket, scented with spring flowers, and lie staring at the white ceiling. The delight at the uniqueness of life and the moment awakened her, giving her the desire to dance, laugh, and run blindly ahead. And when it hit her, when her heart leaped from her small chest with silent joy, then... she knew she wouldn't sleep again for a long, long time. She closed her eyes again and saw Klaudia at 16, 20, 30-something...

Sometimes, unexpectedly, without any reason that could possibly justify it, something would tear her from the tender embrace of sleep. And suddenly she found herself in her bed—warmed by her body, in a silent and cold room. The hum of silence deafened her. The night she was suddenly experiencing was anything but gentle. Brutally, without remorse, it opened her eyes, pushing lucid dreams under the bed. Clocks brazenly ticked off the cold seconds, the moon glared at her menacingly, the curtains seemed dead... Even her father's armchair stood still and cold. Usually, she would then climb out of bed and run barefoot to the bathroom. The most moving thing that happened to her at night was the touch of her white feet on the icy bathroom floor. Each time the floor brutally murdered the last traces of sleep in her mind, Claudia would mourn her magical companion with a silent scream. Each time, anger rose within her... But before the longing for the warm land of dreams reached its peak, Klaudia always returned to bed. The happiest seconds of her short life were the last three meters she ran back to her warm bed. Shivers racked her body, and she snuggled into the fragrant duvet, closing her eyes, rubbing her legs together to warm them. These were truly the most beautiful moments of her life, moments in which she felt truly happy. Once she had controlled her tremors, when her heart rate returned to a normal rate, sleep came unexpectedly quickly. Gently, it whisked her away on a happy journey, making up for letting the cold night sweep her away.