Snatching the leather garb that draped over his chair, he made haste. Feverishly examining all the tools that fumbled in his case, he darted forward. Swaddling his face in rags and boiled cloth, he sprinted towards the door. Ravaging his pockets for the keys, and dashing towards his study and returning to the door at a rapid pace, only one thought crossed his mind, 'their patience grows thin '.
He unlocked the door, swinging it open with full force. He was in a hurry and attempted to slam the door behind him.
However, before the latch of the door had been sealed, he paused and released a hefty sigh, 'ahhhhh, forgetfulness is often frequent when stress clouds your judgment. '
He re-opened the door, returned to his study and grabbed the pair of glasses that had rested at the corner of his desk. He then marched at a rapid pace and repeated the process of locking behind him.
Rushing into the street, he surveyed the area. He continued to spin in circles, while his eyes flicked between a flurry buildings he seemed to recognize. This garden of cobblestone streets was new to him and the ordeal had left him in a daze . He continued to sway from street to street, before retreating from a place that had not reflected his memory. He fumbled about like the tools in his satchel. He scurried each alleyway like a rat and examined each street like a child in search of its mother.
Though it took some effort, he managed to find the harbor by wriggling his way through a cluttered alleway. The Sicilian harbour, the source of the nation's misfortune and the reason for his torment. Bent over,his hands upon his knees, and breathing heavily as if he broke free from chase, he took the time to catch his breathe. He followed the skirts of the harbor towards his shop,but as he neared it's entrance, he noticed something. He witnessed a sea of customers,sardine packed against each other and eagerly awaiting for him to open the door of his shop. Baryonis was aware of the fortunes he could reap by upholding his position as an apothecary, but such results were astounding. These words were documented in his testimony:
I would bear witness to the horde of people pressing themselves near my display window like rats. The pattern of cascading over each other repeated whenever I opened the shop's door, and despite my residency being greeted with many faces, today gifted me with more. The people were filled with such joy when they caught sight of me, however, their glee was misplaced, and they would look for a better investment if they were aware of my actions.
Yes, it is true...
I cheated my buyers...
I cheated my buyers by raising and lowering prices on various customers and kept this tactic concealed by using the concept of human desperation.
I believe I utilized this method well since there had been many customers like her who frequented my shop.
Her name was Chloe, and it is an insult for me to use her name so lightly. A woman tailored to her blouse, and with straight dark hair that toweled over her shoulders like water. Though I marvelled at her beauty in great admiration, I was unwavering in my tactics.
I treated her as if she were a naïve child by offering her prices that she could not bare to pay. She was quick witted, so I offered her a discount when she grew suspicious. Like many, she would be guided by a sense of relief . In that moment, I would immediately claim that it was unfair to the multitude that she should receive special treatment, and stated that she would eventually have to pay the full price. Like many, she needed the medicine, so when, I saw the dews of desperation drip from her eyes claiming that she would sell everything in her home and even offer herself as a slave to meet the standard, I seized the opportunity.
In the same sweetness that my mother would tailor her words, I would say, "Don't look so troubled. I see your troubles and empathize with the frustration in your chains. I will offer you a smaller portion than the rest so that I may be fair and give you this to ease the pain of your beloved, but you will have to return and pay for the next dosage. Do not skip a single day or the smaller dosage of medicine will not take effect."
This tactic ensured her swift and frequent return.
Many times, I would attempt to seduce her by wiping away the dripping tears, comfort her with the warm embrace of my arms wrapped around her, sit her down, and listen to her troubles as if I cared. My tactics may seem simple, but when you are greeted with the world's harshness, you set a layer of trust by exposing your vulnerability to those willing to hear. Only the sober-minded would be aware of my scheme and possibly push me away when I offered closure, but such stress clouds the mind and makes you vulnerable to such snakes. Its quite simple really, 'forgetfulness is often frequent when stress clouds your judgment ' . Chloe would then grace her farewell by walking away with a smile of appreciation and pure gratitude. The smile would leave people like you with your morals splintered, but if you were to repeatedly slather yourself with the filth of such tactics, you would grow numb to it, like a snake shedding it's skin.
The same tactic was practiced indiscriminately. Sometimes, I would swap my customers actual medication with cooking herbs such as mint, oregano, or basil.
Treatment is scarce and the only price that I accept, is the price you're willing to pay, depending on how desperate you are. I am low in supply, and my product is high in demand, should I not have the freedom to set the price? It is the simple law of supply and demand.
And yet...
I believe it is righteous for anyone to judge my actions, however, if this method offered my mother with another day, why would I depend on any other? Would I not be more of a criminal if I did not perform the actions that would save my mother? With the little time she has left, what other method would benefit her to such a degree? Why would I use any other method if the scheme provided me with an abundance of earnings that extended my needs? Would you judge yourself with the standard you judge me, when the few of you practice such things? However, such opinions should be held secret and as long as I do not hold you accountable for your actions, you can excuse me from mine.
Anchored in the seat behind the shop's counter, I waited for someone and admired the sunset that could be seen just outside the shop's display window. She was punctual and would always be seen in front of the counter at dusk. I waited and waited, patiently enduring the shop's serenity. I waited, patiently, I waited, and sat in silence. The birds were lulled and the day gradually blended into night. My eyes grew heavy and an overwhelming drowsiness seemed to charm me. My head rested on my palm that sprouted from the tables surface, and I attempted to shut my eyes.
"What misery is this that weighs down on you so heavily?", her angelic voice broke through the deafening silence, and like a phantom in the wind, I hardly noticed her standing right in front of me. Her name was Catherine, a damsel at first glance and a smile that brightened my day.
"Are you aware that Atlas wanted to be released from his torment despite holding the sky for more than a century? What entitles you to carry such a hefty grievance all by yourself? I would be satisfied with any answer you can give. Be sincere. What is it that troubles you?", she said.
She was a friend of mine who gifted me with her presence each time she encountered a rumour that benefited my mother's health. The army, sons of the king, daughters of the queen, and peasants of the kingdom were aware of Catherines unfathomable kindness. However, only I, her only friend, knew of her roguish qualities. Catherine would siphon upon the people's need for attention by not talking about herself, but rather asking about you as if she was interested. Majority of the time she wouldn't utter a word and let you fill the vacuum of conversation with your self-centred speech.
This was her scheme for tallying rumours, giving her ownership of knowing more about you, than you know of her. In the previous winters, I questioned her regarding the matter, and her response was, "We are all narcissists, aren't we? Who do we cater to more than ourselves? If you speak to the people about matters of the state or troubles of the poor, they will remain deaf to it. Yet if you speak to a man about himself, he will listen for hours. Naturally, after receiving this form of attention, you would want to keep it by talking more about yourself after I made it seem as if I was interested. It is in your ignorance, that you would begin to unveil things to me that I had never asked for. Don't you want to feel special in a conversation? Don't we all desire to be the center of attention? Then why hate me for giving you what you want if a sliver of information and servitude is all I ask for? This is how I brew my method of seduction and I don't see anything wrong with seducing the other".
Following that day, I made an oath to be weary of a snake such as her, for we were snakes of the same kind. She lit the candles beside me and placed my favourite bottle of Scottish wine and a dish wrapped in cloth on the counter. I unwrapped the red velvet colour piece by piece and each piece of cloth I removed caused the ingredients of the dish to waft past me. In its freshness, I could smell its contents. —a Dash of cinnamon, a cup of marsala wine, and a freshly zested lemon. After completely removing the dishes' garments, I could do nothing but marvel at the three fresh pieces of cannoli. It was similar to Mother's style of cooking. She knew my faults well, but perhaps the thought of cooking it with Mother's touch expressed Catherine's kindness?
"What is the reason that I may indulge in such an affair?".
A gentleness accompanied her response, "I see how a lack of sleep darkens your eyes, and how your smile fades throughout the day each time I gaze at you from the window of my bakery. You're tired. You need a break from carrying a hefty grievance as Atlas did. Please eat, and we will discuss our private affairs if the dish is to your liking."
I was well aware of her tenderness, however, all that I have heard so far is what I have wanted to hear all along. It was a stratagem I frequently practiced on my customers and our victims often confused it with compassion and truth. Despite being clouded in a mist of confusion, her intention remained clear to me. I was being seduced. Those words were sweeter than honey and made me feel as if I had no need to be shackled by responsibility. Had I not remained sober-minded near this serpent, I would have ended up emptying the bottle of Scottish wine, and, in my drunkenness, I would have been at her mercy.
In a tone of sarcasm, I questioned, "How many nobles have you enticed using the techniques I taught you and that you intend to use on me?"
Her innocent smirk cracked into that of pure ecstasy, "Why bother counting? I only keep record of those who pleasure me with a challenge. Such as you my darling. Oh, and did you enjoy my method of cooking?".
With my answer still pending, I said, "The way you made the cannoli nearly rinsed me clean of my sobriety".
It is only fair for a friend to be in a state of shock upon discovery, but to me, it was humorous and it was a sick twisted relationship that only a pair of snakes could relish. We shared a cannolo and laughed the matter away.
Despite the genuine joy in her smile, her chuckles descended in volume. Her grin faded and she said, "I do enjoy our game of underhanded methods. However, the dish is sincere. You should give thought to your rest and Aunt Theresa's peaceful rest since you've done all you can. I know it's not easy, but it is better to act than be conflicted in thought.".
I brushed off her advice, for what could she tell me about my mother that I had not already told myself? I simply stared at the empty glass beside me, and filled it with the gift of wine.
She was aware of my thoughts and attempted to lighten the mood.
She arose from her chair.
Swaying her hips to and frow, elegantly treading towards the open door, while her heels clicked with each step.
*click click click click*
Placing her palms upon its frame, and with her hour glass-like figure silhouetted in the moonlight she said, "The night is in its infancy and we're too young to be shackled by responsibilities. Let me take you to the meadows so that I may put your troubles to rest. "
Such an enticing sentence. To get some rest is a blissful indulgence, how could I not agree to such a declaration?
I arose from my chair, snuffed the candles and followed her to the meadows.