Ferdinand stormed out of the library in the peak of the afternoon, the sun high in the sky, casting sharp shadows across the University of Paris campus. The air was thick with the warmth of early autumn, and the sounds of the city hummed in the distance. His frustration boiled over, each step he took away from the library fueled by the anger of his failed business deal. The deal had meant everything—a culmination of weeks of effort, meticulous planning, and countless sleepless nights. And now, it had all slipped through his fingers.
As he exited, his eyes caught something—someone. A girl seated in the corner, her eyes wide with fear as she flinched at the noise he had caused. It was just a fleeting moment, barely a second, but it imprinted itself in his mind like a subconscious thought. He didn't recognize her, but the image of her startled expression stayed with him, echoing in the back of his mind as he walked away. It was an unsettling reminder of the impact his anger had on others, a realization that didn't sit well with him.
As he walked, his thoughts churned with resentment and disappointment, his mind racing too fast to notice the beauty around him. The campus was alive with students milling about, chatting in groups, or hurrying to their next classes, but their presence barely registered in Ferdinand's consciousness. The grand, historic buildings of the university, with their intricate stonework and towering spires, stood as silent witnesses to his internal storm.
He barely noticed where he was going until he found himself in a secluded part of the campus—a quiet spot he often retreated to when he needed to think. It was a small bench nestled between two ancient oak trees, their leaves just beginning to turn gold. The bench had a view of the campus courtyard, framed by the majestic architecture of the surrounding buildings. It was a peaceful place, far removed from the chaos in his mind.
As Ferdinand approached, he saw a crumpled piece of paper lying on the bench. The sight of it momentarily pulled him out of his thoughts. Curious, he picked it up and carefully unfolded it. It was a half-drawn sketch of a sunset, the colors soft and warm, capturing the moment just before the sun dipped below the horizon. The drawing was unfinished, yet it held a quiet beauty that struck Ferdinand. Whoever had drawn it had seen something in the world that was worth capturing, something he was struggling to appreciate at that moment.
He sat down on the bench, still holding the sketch in his hand. The anger that had driven him from the library began to ebb, replaced by a quiet melancholy. The campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed to pause for a moment, as if in sync with his need for calm. He looked up at the sky, the sun still bright but beginning its slow descent. The world around him seemed to soften, the harshness of the day giving way to the gentleness of the afternoon light.
Despite the beauty around him, Ferdinand's thoughts were still tangled in the frustration of the day. His ambitions had always been his driving force, but today, they felt like a heavy burden. The deal he had been so close to securing had slipped through his fingers, and the sting of that failure was fresh and sharp.
He stared at the sketch for a long moment, feeling a strange connection to the unknown artist who had left it behind. Whoever it was had seen the same sunset he was witnessing now, but instead of focusing on their troubles, they had chosen to immortalize it in art. The simplicity of the drawing contrasted sharply with the complexity of the emotions churning inside him.
Ferdinand exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from his body. The beauty of the moment, the tranquility of the campus, and the contrast between the chaos in his mind and the calm of his surroundings began to soothe him. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Writing had always been his way of processing his thoughts, of untangling the knots in his mind. The half-drawn sunset in his hand inspired him, its unfinished state reminding him that not everything needed to be resolved in the moment.
As he began to write, his pen moved fluidly across the page, the words coming to him naturally:
The City of Light, she breathes at dusk,
A sigh of color, a whispered hush.
The streets, they glow in twilight's hold,
As day's last breath paints skies with gold.
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As the final lines took shape on the page, Ferdinand felt a sense of relief. The weight of the day lifted, even if just a little, as the city wrapped him in its embrace. The poetry was simple, not his best work, but it didn't matter. It was enough that he had written it—that he had taken a moment to let the beauty of the world outside of his own struggles sink in.
He folded the poem and tucked it into his notebook, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The campus was quieter now, the last of the students having retreated to their rooms or out into the city for the evening. The world seemed a little less harsh, a little more manageable, and Ferdinand found comfort in that.
Ferdinand looked down at the unfinished drawing once more before carefully placing it back on the bench. It seemed right to leave it there, a silent reminder of the moment of peace he had found in the midst of his chaos.
As the day turned to evening, Ferdinand returned to his apartment, his mind still buzzing but his heart a little lighter. He threw himself into his work, determined to salvage what he could from the day. Hours passed as he pored over his spreadsheets, updating numbers, analyzing data, and trying to piece together a new plan. But as midnight approached, exhaustion began to creep in, and with it came a sudden, unbidden memory of the girl in the library.
He hadn't thought of her since he'd left the library, but now, as he stared at the screen in front of him, the image of her flinching at his outburst came rushing back. The memory unsettled him. He had been so consumed by his own frustration that he hadn't noticed how his actions affected others. The thought gnawed at him, making him uneasy. He wondered who she was and why his anger had scared her so much.
The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him, until his overactive mind began to spiral into overthinking. What kind of person was he to scare someone like that? Was he becoming too consumed by his ambitions? But before he could dwell on these thoughts for too long, exhaustion finally took over. Within two minutes, he had drifted off to sleep, his head resting on his arms as he slumped over the table, the glow of his laptop screen casting a soft light over the room.
In the quiet of the night, with the city of Paris slumbering around him, Ferdinand finally found a moment of peace, though his dreams were tinged with the unresolved questions of the day.