He stood up from his bed and slowly moved to his wardrobe. He opened it and stared at his cloths with confusion for a minute.

“What shall I wear?” He said, repeating the question again and again, then adding, “This is not like any other visit? Yesterday was my 60th birthday and I wore the grey suit. Sixty years passed away with many miserable events. But today is different, very different, it is a very important visit. The guest is the most prestigious one to me. Many miseries will end with a wave of his hand.”

With a shaky hand he grabbed his black suit. 

“This is almost a new suit. I wore it only once … a few moth ago or  … could be more. .. I remember, but what was the occasion? … and when? Oh my God! I cannot remember. It is really annoying not to be able to remember .. many things .. sometimes your children’s names, let alone occasions or people.”

He put the suit on the bed and picked his satin white shirt and a pure silk tie he bought last week. It attracted him with its heavenly jet black colour and paid 75 pounds for it from his first pension, as it was not on sale.

He was satisfied to decide what to wear. 

Leaving the bedroom, and the cloths are still on the bed, he heard his wife’s voice “Adam! Why are you leaving your cloths like that? Return them back to the wardrobe.”

He turned right and he turned left and unconsciously replied “Darling … I …”…  and was about to explain, but he stopped and looked around the bed in despair. Then he said to himself with sorrow “Why you left me darling alone in this deserted place? How annoying to battle in life on your own! .. specially after our son has moved to Australia.”

He left the bedroom feeling short of breath. The whole flat was dark, the curtains of the small window in the bedroom were still closed and the large one in the lounge as well. 

The flat has two rooms, a bedroom and a lounge. The lounge is round; the flat door is standing on one side with a large Victorian window facing it. On the other side there are two armchairs opposite to each other. 

The lounge is his favorite place because he designed it himself before retiring. He went toward the bathroom. “Now I will shave, take a shower and get ready,” he said. Putting on his suit, he remembered the perfume. “Shall I wear this? It is the same perfume I wore on his only visit to us in this flat. He liked it, I mean the perfume. Okay. I will wear it then. His last visit was very brief. It was like a a ghost encounter. He came unexpectedly and left almost without noticing.

He stood in front of the mirror in the lounge to adjust his tie, and raised his head up with a passionate look to his wife’s picture over the mirror.

“I wish you were with me … my darling. But do not worry, we will definitely be together again, where there is no pain, no evil, no Alzheimer and no loneliness. I feel it full heartedly my beloved.” He whispered.

He sat on his armchair comfortably. In front of him the others but bigger armchair was still empty. He assured himself “This is for the visitor. It suits him more with its dark, velvet cloth and high back, and long decorated neck with three angels in gold.

The big clock on the wall, next to the other armchair is ticking. 

The telephone rang. He stood quickly and answered. “Yes … I am afraid I cannot. I am waiting for a visitor, an important guest. I thought it was him when you rang. I have to wait. Bye.”

The clock is ticking, one, two, three, … ten … eleven … twelve.

His eyes had admittedly yielded to sleepiness and his head kept dropping every two or three minutes from his shoulder. Every time he wakes up he keeps gazing at the clock, looking with anxiety at the telephone, and staring with warmth at the flat door.

One day the door bell rang. The bell sound alerted his bones inside him. He jumped from his chair to open the door. 

In front of him he found his neighbor; “Good morning … I have not seen you for ages … do you have time for a cup of tea?” Said the neighbor. He answered in an anger, but polite tone: “I am so sorry. I cannot. I am waiting for a visitor, very important visitor. Sorry for that.”

The clock kept ticking steadily,  the telephone kept ringing from time to time, and the door bell kept interrupting the stillness of silence in the flat day after day. 

One day he suddenly interrupted the silence and stood up, kept walking forward and backwards assuring himself: “He is definitely coming. There is no doubt. It is high time. And out of respect, I should keep waiting. I do not have to engage in any trivial daily routines as usual, as he might knock all of a sudden, as usual. Life should stop; its boring routines should stop, out of respect. And I have to be patient. Patience now is the motto of this stage of my life. Patience and waiting. It is nice to wait for something or someone. It keeps all your sense alert and you feel that there is a purpose for your every minute in your life. You feel that you live for a purpose, for waiting even for the unknown which has become too obviously known.”

The clock kept ticking and ticking and ticking … 

Adam’s face started to become pale, his beard had covered most of his face features in co-ordination with what had been left of his hair on the two sides of his head. His suit, shirt and tie lost their brightness and straightness. But he kept waiting with no despair. 

At dawn he went with steady steps to the big Victorian window which faces the flat door and opened it wide. Air waves rushed inside the flat as if they had not been given permission before to enter. 

Adam stood in front of the mirror and gazed at his reflection with frozen long face. He turned up his head and said to his wife. “How naïve I was. I kept waiting and waiting here inside the flat. And then I realized.. how naïve I was.” He said in a regretting tone.

He turned, and faced the window … he took a long breath and jumped from the window.

On the ground people heard him murmuring: “I was naïve … he came .. but he did not knock and waited outside.`