An Unremarkable Day (Original Short Story)

It seemed such an unremarkable place. The atmosphere was not tensed or marred in any way. A light breeze floated by casually. The sky was not particularly blue and not grey either, rather an undecided pale colour. One couldn't hear more than a few traffic sounds even with strained ears. 

And yet, something was off. There were no birds chirping. The breeze was not cold and, instead, just tepid. There was an uneasy dullness in the few sunrays that illuminated the street and the man who stood on it. 

The man wore a pretty unremarkable grey hoodie and blue jeans and there was nothing that particularly stood out about him. Well, apart from the wide eyes and raised eyebrows as he stared at the cracked screen of his smartphone. 

There seemed nothing particularly out of place in the white screen and its text bubbles, perhaps not much that seemed to deserve the gasp he let out. Yet one could not shake off a growing unease at the sight of his still body. He seemed to not be breathing. 

His normal-seeming fingers began to tremble. Five of them slapped onto his mouth. A few seconds later, he took a breath and returned all his fingers to the phone. His two thumbs raced across the screen at an alarming rate, the clacks of his nails punctuating the air and infusing a sense of dread into it. 

The cracks on the screen amplified the clacks of his fingernails until all of it abruptly stopped. He stared at the messages for a fair few minutes while the air seemed to wait breathlessly to see his next action. He took a deep breath and clicked on the send button. 

"It's done," he whispered to himself. Following a longing look at the messages, he exited the app and locked the screen. Forcing his eyes closer and eyebrows down, he found a bench and sat on it. Setting aside his phone, he crossed his hands across his chest and stared up at the sky. 

There seemed nothing particularly remarkable about the man on the bench or about the day either. The quiet calmness persisted for a few seconds before a shrill ringtone punctured it. He answered the phone after two rings. 

One could perhaps make out a few faint phrases from a shrieking voice on the other side of the call. His face did not belie any reaction to the voice. He began to play around with the folded sleeve of his hoodie. A gasp fled his mouth when he saw a streak of red lining his wrist. He hastily pulled the sleeve to its full length and hid it. 

A shrill exclamation returned his attention to his phone. Letting out an irritated cluck, he cut the call and kept his phone aside. He returned to his position of staring up at the sky. There were no expressions on his face. 

There seemed nothing particularly remarkable about the man on the bench. The notifications popping up on his screen did not pull his attention away from the pale sky. 

'You're scared? What happened?' 

'Where are you?' 

'Pick up the call!' 

'Babe! There are cops near our place!' 

'OMG Why is there blood on our bedroom floor?!'  

The phone rang a few more times but he ignored it. He closed his eyes and laid back his head, looking the most peaceful he ever had in his life. His trembling fingers had gone still. The marked pallor of his face had vanished. 

It was an unremarkable day and all was calm. There had just been a tiny misunderstanding but he had smoothed it over. He had assumed his wife was having an affair with the man he found in their kitchen an hour ago. The topless man was younger and handsome and he didn't have to think twice before he was overcome by the thought that he had to make sure the affair ended today. 

The younger man was trying to tell him something but he could not comprehend, nor did he even want to understand. A blind rage overtook him and he pushed the man. The chopped carrots and potatoes lay unused on the kitchen table, the knife that had stabbed them now lodged into the chest of the man who had stabbed them. 

It was an unremarkable day and the unremarkable man sat unremarkably on the unremarkable bench. The stabbed man lay unremarkably on the unremarkable bed at the unremarkable man's house, a trail of blood colouring the unremarkable floor. An unremarkable letter was on his side. Shrieks of a police siren broke into the unremarkable atmosphere and the crying woman was put in handcuffs and taken away from the house. 

The unremarkable man was sauntering around the unremarkable park when a realization hit him upon opening his messaging application. He was the one who was having an affair with the stabbed man. It was too late when he remembered. 

He had just hoped that the police would believe the letter he wrote. He had written that he had found out his wife was having an affair with the man and that she had threatened to kill him if he told anyone. He wrote that he had watched her stab the man and fled when she went out. He concluded the letter by writing that he was scared and wouldn't return home. The police wound up believing his letter over her repeated cries that she did not even know the stabbed man. 

It was an unremarkable day. The unremarkable man sat unremarkably on the unremarkable bench. He even smiled unremarkably as he relaxed and thought of neither his wife nor the younger man. He welcomed the unremarkable quietness and peace.