Purpose

Rudolph woke up at 5 o’clock, feeling unrefreshed after cancelling out all of Sunday. The Fomo party he attended someplace outside of Lichtenberg had been okay at least. Or that is how he chooses to remember it, was it an interesting conversation between him and, oh what was his name again? Tim? Yeah, Tim. What did they talk about? The pillow on his bed, seems to remember most of it, of how they talked and talked and never kissed. How, for a moment, it had felt as if Rudolph had found purpose on the lips of Tim, as if Tim had spelled it out to him, P.U.R.P.O.S.E.

Now the first thing Rudy does is to open the window, then stumble into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He is doing a linseed cleanse right now, only drinking linseeds for breakfast and dinner and allowing himself one gluten-free meal for lunch. When he’s on the cleanse, he never once has to throw up, not even after taking too much Ketamine or Ayahuasca. He pours the hot water on the seeds in the mug when the doorbell buzzes. Rudy presses the key on the intercom and listens through the door for the steps on the staircase. Who is it? Noone? He doesn’t hear any steps, then probably just the mailman, on a Sunday? The thought that the mailman would come by on Sunday really unsettles him, sending a shiver down his spine even, forcing him to stumble back into the bedroom and lie down on the bed one more time.

Meanwhile, a dove lands above his bedroom window. Coo Coo silence, then somehow the dove gets even louder and melodic COO COO coo cooohh 

Rudy pretends not to hear until he can think of nothing else. He sits up in his bed, looks at the window. And, his eyes widen. His mouth moves as if he hesitates to speak. There, on his windowsill, sits a brown parcel, about the size of a shoebox. Rudy’s first reaction is to hide under the blankets. This is just too much. How did it get there? Was he hallucinating? Coo Coo Surely, there could be a logical explanation for this. Did the pigeon drop it off by mistake? Rudy peeks from under the covers to see if the parcel is still there. Coo Coo. It still is and he walks over to the window to look at it. Once he’s at the window, the pigeon flies off. Silence. He looks for an address. The parcel is addressed to: Rudy, Storkower Gasse 6, the windowsill on the third floor. This is like something straight out of Harry Potter. At this point he is beginning to expect to wake up at any moment. But it all feels so real, somehow. Only one way to find out. Rudy carefully lifts the parcel and turns it over. It’s light but there is something inside.