The Joy of Existence

Another night of loneliness and emptiness. Another night case - this city has long been rotten through and through - the detective has already left for the case. Will he catch the criminal?? It's not

There is no sun in his life �" Vincent does not leave the house during the day. There is no moon in his life�"Vincent is too busy working to stare at the sky. Why do that? There is too much light in the city. The stars are impossible to see, and the moon is just a boring fragment of space. There are no reflections in his life�"Vincent couldn't stand mirrors. There was only one thing in his apartment, and that was covered with a cloth. Vincent couldn't stand the sight of his face. It was disfigured by an eternal dot and a terrible scar�"not a sexy type�"that elongated his mouth and kneaded his cheek. This scar is a reminder of his glory days. He got it in a fierce battle with the boss of the Chinese mafia. After the victory, Vincent Monroe was recognized as a hero. The newspapers talked for a long time about his feat and about many subsequent ones, but now Vincent is nothing more than a shell of himself from the past. His skin smells of nicotine through and through, and there is only despondency in his glassy eyes. He doesn't have long to retire, and even the simplest things are difficult for Vincent. A recluse like him is no longer interested in work. The only thing that can motivate him to leave the house is that he has run out of cigarettes or expired milk.

 

The cabaret club "Tessa" welcomed visitors with dazzling bright lights of a giant signboard. There are a lot of cars in the vicinity of the club and nowhere to park. Vincent clicked his tongue, muttering, "You could have guessed. Friday night." He really hadn't been anywhere further than his block in a long time.

 

Leaving the car a couple of streets away from his destination, Vincent continued on foot. The man took out a half-empty pack with a lighter. It's a little foggy today. The cigarette smoke merges with it to hide.

 

"I like the sound of that."

 

Vincent looks around. The street is empty. Almost. A girl comes out of the door next to it�"it seems to be a bookstore. Young, short, under twenty-five for sure. She was alone. This confused Vincent, because she had just said something.

 

"Would you share a cigarette?" The girl came closer. The man frowned. He is busy with work and, worse, has long been unaccustomed to social interactions, especially with young people. "Please."

 

Vincent sighs. He hands the stranger a cigarette, and together they light up. Vincent continues on his way in silence. Unfortunately for him, the girl goes with him.

 

"Are you... a detective??" She asks.

 

Vincent ignores her. The girl doesn’t intend to give up.

 

"You caught the head of the Chinese mafia, right??"

 

Many people know Vincent for this, one could read it in the newspapers. It is not surprising that a stranger could recognize him: he has been wearing the same coat for several decades.

 

"You're Vincent."

 

Vincent stopped. No one had called him that for many years. He's usually "Detective Monroe" or "hey man." He turned around slowly. The girl, blinking, waited for Vincent's answers. Vincent quickly scanned her from head to toe. The stranger was quite short, even looked a little like a teenager, thin and fragile. Her checkered dress was of low quality, but still better than her cheap blouse and gloves. Dark patent leather shoes were not surprising: half the country has such shoes. The blonde hair of the girl was short and did not touch her shoulders. Her misty gray eyes looked much bigger because of the round glasses. Her pink cheeks looked like something floral and springy. Or is it because of her perfume?

 

"My name is Minnie. Thanks for the cigarette." She gives Vincent the sweetest smile, and it makes him wonder if she has a lot of them, if she gives them to just anyone, "Nice to meet you, Vincent."

 

"What do you want, Minnie?" Vincent attacks directly. "I'm busy with work."

 

"To go catch the criminal with you, of course," Minnie takes a long drag, "I have to help you solve this case, Detective."

 

"Go home." Vincent snaps and continues on his way, Minnie actively following him. "Are you deaf? I told you to go home."

 

"But I live right next to “Tessa!" Minnie objects. "And I won't leave you alone anyway, you hear? I know who robbed the club!"

 

Vincent stopped so abruptly that Minnie accidentally bumped into his back, making a piteous "ow!" sound.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Detective turns around and looks straight to the girl's eye.

 

"Nothing unusual. Take my words straight, Vincent." Minnie doesn't break up their staring contest. "I know who the robber is, and I can help you. You just want to get home as soon as possible, don't you?? You can close the case much faster working with me."

 

Vincent snorted. He continued walking towards the club. Minnie was still following him.

 

"And how do you know??"

 

"I looked at the next page." Minnie's tone did not change, but Vincent did not appreciate the joke, frowning. "I saw, that's all, - Minnie sounded a little upset. "The window of my kitchen opens into the same alley that the back door of “Tessa” opens into. The robber ran out of there."

 

"You said you'd help me close the case faster. So stop playing games." Minnie, chastised, spread her hands. They spent the next minute in silence.

"Let's take a turn here." Minnie broke the silence. "The robber works not far from here." "Why are you so sure??"

 

"I saw it on the following page."

 

"I can't arrest him without proof." Vincent rolls his eyes. He doesn't have the energy to argue with Minnie.

 

"There will be proof. Let's go."

 

Minnie puts out her cigarette on the trash can and throws the butt in there. Vincent does the same, although he is used to putting out cigarette butts on the asphalt.

 

The dark alley is ghostly quiet. Even the twilight spies�"the crows�"don't pay attention to Minnie and Vincent. There is little light, a lot of cars and small debris. Vincent, usually apathetic, doesn't want to see Minnie here. This girl doesn't belong in dark alleys. The detective tells her to go home again. She refuses again.

 

"Don't worry, Vincent." Minnie smiles confidently. "I'm not afraid. After all, I am immortal." Vincent chuckles. Now he's worried.

"You don’t celebrate birthdays?" detective asks, looking at Minnie with slight concern. "Hmm??"

"My daughter is also "immortal". She hates birthdays, says they were just an indicator of time, but for her there was none. She... didn't want to grow up. And she didn’t." Vincent chuckled, smiling for a second. "She's always a baby to me."

 

"You haven’t kept in touch with her for a long time??"

 

"How did you guess??" Vincent sighed sadly. "Did you “look at the next page”?" "No. It was simply obvious."

There was an old china shop at the end of the alley. It was closed, but the light was still on.

 

"Before we go in." Minnie began "You need to know that the owner has a revolver under the counter."

 

"Is he the robber?"

 

"Yes. He needs money for his son's treatment." "How do you know that?"

"I read it on the ne�"" "Okay, I got it."

Minnie giggled. She quickly came up with a simple plan. Vincent, unhappy with Minnie's presence in it, told her for the third time to go home. Minnie refused for the third time.

 

The girl began to pull the handle and knock on the door. The shopkeeper, grunting and cursing in displeasure, opened the door for her.

 

"What do you need??" The owner snapped. His voice was dry, and there was a clear accent in his speech. "We are closed."

 

"Oh, please, good sir!" Minnie threw up her hands theatrically. "We desperately need a tea set!"

 

"We're closed" The man repeated, squeezing the door handle until it creaked. "Please! We will pay a double the price!"

The owner's eyebrows rose slightly. He took a step aside, letting Vincent and Minnie inside, the girl quickly ran to the far wall, where the tea sets were located. While Minnie was looking at the porcelain cups with the owner, the detective stepped behind the counter. He crouched down, put his hand into the space between the drawers and felt for the revolver there. Minnie was right again. Vincent quickly checked a couple of drawers and, while doing so, noticed how suspiciously the floorboard was sagging under him. The detective examined the floor.

The floorboard is not nailed down. Vincent glanced at Minnie and the shopkeeper. They were still busy. Vincent lifted and pushed aside the floorboard. There were bills hidden under it.

 

 

*****

 

 

The robber was arrested the same night. Minnie and Vincent smoked and watched the car take him away for a long time. The girl accompanied detective to his car. Vincent took one last look at her.

 

"And how did you do that?" "What did I do??"

"Found out who the culprit was. And why did you decide to help me at all??"

 

"I've already told you." Minnie smiled gently." About the help.. I just wanted to have a bigger role."

 

"What do you mean by that??" Detective frowned.

 

"I’m not sure if you’ll understand." For the first time that night Minnie looks sad. "Are you really interested in listening??"

 

"Yes." Vincent wasn't lying. For the first time in many years, someone caught his interest. "You didn't see the robber from the window. Your eyesight’s not that good. You couldn't have known about the gun under the counter. You couldn't have know that much, but you have.

How? From where??"

 

"Well," Minnie adjusted her glasses. "I just like to read. And I can read fast. I see how everything is divided into pages. Don't you see that??" Vincent shook his head. "I see." Minnie sighed.

 

"And your immortality??"

 

"Ah, that's the best part." Minnie cheered up. "I realized my existence. I am so happy to exist, Vincent! I realized that I existed when the author, well, it was probably something like that, I'm not sure, told someone about me. And I wasn't on the pages, but in someone's mind.

Amazing, isn't it?? Although… You don't look amazed. Do you think I'm talking nonsense??" "Yes." The detective replied shortly. "Yes, that's right."

Minnie took a deep breath and turned around.

 

"By the way, I do not know if I have a window in my kitchen. There was no description of my apartment on any page. I don’t know what my apartment’s like." The girl looked at the man, "There is only one page left. I do not advise you to waste it. Goodbye, Vincent."

 

The detective watched the girl go. He couldn't get her out of his head for a long time. After getting into the car, Vincent stretched and thought again. About the pages, about Minnie.

Detective looked in the rear-view mirror. He peered into his dark pupils.

 

"The last page, huh?"

 

Vincent opened the car window, took out a cigarette and lit it. Cigarette smoke merged with the fog and hid in it.

 

Fin.

 

 

Author's Note

This was my literature homework. 😶😶🤙 🤙
My father liked it, he said that he was waiting for a continuation, but I don’t know whether it’s necessary or not.🙂🙃🙂🙃
There's the same fic but in Russian. It can be found somewhere in my profile.🐶🐶

Reviews

[Elsa 123]

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