The Perfect Night

      Everything was laid out perfectly. The table was set, the carpet was cleaned, and the frames stood even on the sky blue walls. There was excitement in the air; an unrelenting anticipation 

     He had decided to wear his finest clothes for that evening. His best shirt, black silk, the same shirt he had worn to his college graduation ceremony. His best pants, dark grey with plead’s, the same of which he had worn to his best friend's wedding. And, of course, a burnished pair of brown leather wingtips that had belonged to his late grandfather. He wore everything except for his favourite watch. Time was not something on his mind for the evening; perfect moments are best lived with a blind eye to clocks. 

    All of the necessary measures were in place to ensure nothing would spoil the evening. He had turned his phone off, booked the day from work, and done just about everything possible to prepare correctly. 

      The time was close; it didn’t matter - nothing mattered. 

     He continued to pace around his living room, debating on whether or not a speech would be in order. The night before he had written one out, but now that the day had finally come he was reluctant. After all, the audience to address wasn’t grand, but a relative turnout nonetheless. 

The time was approaching. 

     Before he could begin he was careful to select the perfect chair, one that would tie everything together. After careful consideration, he opted for the old wooden one at his desk. That chair which he had spent a great deal of nights upon infront of his laptop writing, trying his best to craft something of worth. 

     He positioned the chair in the middle of the living room facing the television. On its left was his collection of artwork, including a large mirror he had previously covered with a blanket. To the right, the wall was nearly empty, a few accolades of his past, the major of which was his diploma he had received for completing a two year program in journalism at the community college. There was also a photo of his mother on that wall, she was unable to attend, but he wanted her to be present. 

    Everything was in order, everything was ready. He stood on the chair, with a smile and enthusiasm he hadn’t shown to anyone in many years. He couldn’t help but laugh. This was the perfect night for him after all. The final touches, now he could grab the rope with ease. Wrapping it  around his neck, he placed his arms behind his back, and with one final breath said, “What a perfect night.”