Bridget awoke to the smell of pan fried ham and eggs. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock across from the bed and saw it was five in the morning. Earlier than usual, she thought as she got up and slipped into her slippers. She walked lightly towards the kitchen and saw the back of a familiar man. A slight smile came on her face and she began to tip-toe across the room. However, the creak of the floorboard alerted the man to her presence. 

The man spoke to her in a rough and mellow voice without turning around, “Did I wake you up?”

Shoot, Bridget thought and sighed. “No you didn’t.” She walked over beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Go freshen yourself up, let me take it from here.” She took the spatula from his hand and gently pushed him towards the small sink in the bathroom. He slowly walked over to it and took the towel off the rack when he’s there. She managed to take a good look at her husband then through the mirror in front of the sink. 

He soaked the towel with water before putting it against his face. As he wiped the towel down from his face to his neck, his scarred face became clear in the mirror. The memory of the old injury smeared across the right side of his olive tinted face and down into the limbs. It healed, but never managed to recover to the way it was, with his slightly droopy right eye as evidence. His pale grey eyes stared back at her from the mirror, glazed with tiredness. When he’s done cleaning, he came over to Bridget to take over the cooking. She handed the spatula back to him and went to the sink for her turn. She pulled her blonde hair back to tie it into a bun before rinsing herself awake with cold water.  She looked up to the mirror to see the familiar pale oval face with two gleaming emerald eyes. A shadow was noticeable under her eyes from the late night studies. 

She glanced over to see him bringing the two plates of breakfast to the dining table in the center of their hybrid kitchen and dining room. They lived in a small apartment, the top floor of a two floor building. It was made of three rooms neatly arranged together into a square: the bedroom, the kitchen and the washroom. There are no doors to the rooms, but neither of them felt a need to. After all, they never received any guests since they moved to Londonary. Of the years they’ve spent together, Bridget fully understood that her husband was a private individual. She was fine with that, in fact, she held some pride that she’s one of the few who knew the true Vito Elmore.

“Tough night?” Bridget asked as she put the pan into the sink to be washed later. 

“Same as usual,” Vito came over to Bridget and grabbed the utensils behind her.  

“Want any tea?” Bridget held up the kettle with the freshly boiled water. 

“Not today, I want to get some sleep after breakfast. Come let’s eat,” he pulled the chair out for her and took the remaining chair. 

As she ate her breakfast, she stared out the window behind Vito. There were already sounds of people gathering and walking to the city square. “You know, soon each day would be 36 hours.”

“We’ll have to figure out whether to work or sleep more because of it." 

“Maybe you’ll finally have an excuse to take that nap at noon you've always wanted,” she suggested it to him.

“I’ll need to update the sign at the clinic then.”

“And the clock,” she reminded. “The whole town is getting new clocks, so we should too.”

Vito paused for a brief moment and looked to her. Bridget noticed and gazed back at her husband, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Vito smiled, and returned to cut up his eggs.  

Bridget’s gaze lingered on Vito as she thought what was on Vito’s mind. She shook the thought away shortly after, and resumed the conversation. “They’ll be celebrating today at the city square.”

“Mhmm, I heard it too. You wanted to go?”

“No,” she quickly replied, “It just reminded me of the last time we went to the fair back in our hometown. Do you remember?”

Vito nodded. Of course he remembered. It was before the accident at his father’s clinic, shortly after he met Bridget. He has memory of them, but he could no longer relate to them in his present condition. He got up from the table, and walked over to the kitchen counter. He opened the cabinet above the stove and rummaged through the materials inside.

“What are you looking for dear?” Bridget asked from where she sat. 

“Some teabags,” Vito replied. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want any,” Bridget got up and walked over to him. 

“I changed my mind. I thought it would be interesting to take a walk together to see how this celebration of theirs compares to ours.” Vito looked at Bridget with a grin that seemed so childish that she couldn’t help but grin back.

“The tea bag is on your right. Here, let me get it for you.”

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By late morning, both Vito and Bridget had their fair share of food stalls and trinkets. They managed to found a crate placed beside a house nearby and decided to use it to rest their feet. Despite being tired, Bridget was in high spirits, dragging him from stall to stall as if this was the first time she’d been in an event like this. Bridget convinced him not to wear his mask, and he was glad. With the high volume of people moving about, barely anyone took notice of his look. Ironically, it is within crowds that Vito manage to find his place of normality. Vito had always avoided going out on regular days, besides walking to and back from his work. The rest of his time, he spent sitting in the dining room listening to Bridget’s stories. They’d sometimes discuss medical issues, sometimes politics, but all within the vicinity of their apartment. Occasionally, if there was no work at night, Vito would share a walk with Bridget in the dark. However, the chances for these walks were far too few ever since they’ve moved to Londonary. Bridget had become much like Vito’s eyes, giving him the details of the cities that he otherwise would not know. She always had the sharper eyes for things he’d miss. 

He looked at her now, with her eyes beaming as she took in everything around her. Although Bridget is not greedy for wealth, she had always been greedy for adventures. Vito just wished he wasn’t going to trap her within his tiny little world. “Look, that’s Mayor Johnstone. I heard he’s really popular within the city.” 

Vito followed her finger to a finely dressed medium sized man followed by a slender male. “Who is the mayor?”

“The one with the mustache,” she laughed softly, “You really have no idea about this city do you?”

“And beside him?”

“Probably an Aristocrat, after all, the project is funded by them.”

Vito nodded to Bridget’s answer before another question popped into his head, “What is this project?”

“It’s a clock tower. You see it covered in the distance?”

Sure enough, there it is in the distance. As Vito was fixated on the clock tower, he felt Bridget’s head resting on his arms. He pulled his arm from under her and held her close by the shoulder instead. Under the warmth of the sun and Bridget, Vito began feeling the effect of tea slipping away and sleep crawling back into him. Just as he closed his eyes he heard the sound of the mayor, “Welcome everyone.”

The couple’s head snapped back up and look to the direction of the announcement. As the mayor tried to make his announcement, a heckler yelled out but was quickly removed from site. As the mayor tried to resume he was interrupted yet again by the sound of the clock tower. The curtain dropped soon after. 

If Vito was familiar with anything, it was medicine. And the one thing he saw in medicine more than anything else is the failure of it, a dead man. Therefore, before the curtain dropped completely, Vito’s eyes caught a glimpse of just that. Quickly, he covered the Bridget’s eyes but unfortunately Bridget always has the sharper eye. “W-w-who?” She asked, her body shivering from what she just saw. 

Before Vito could comfort her, the square exploded into panic. When the crowd of people stampeded out of the square, Vito pushed Bridget against the walls of the house behind them and shielded her from it. “Why…who?” she tried to look behind her to the source of it, but Vito wouldn’t let her. 

“Doesn’t matter, let’s go home,” was the only answer he gave as he slowly walked her out of the square along the walls. 

When the crowd finally thinned and they were almost home, their pace slowed to a halt. She was still shivering, and her eyes stared blankly onto the road with her head replaying the same image over and over again. He pulled her to the side and held her face with his hand, “You going to be alright?” 

She finally regained her awareness and looked into his eyes. She bit down on her quivering lips and breathed slowly to calm her heart beat. “Yes. I just…,” she sighed, “Maybe it was a mistake to come out today.”

“No,” Vito assured her, “Someone else made the mistake today.”