by Dan Earl
His hand slowly moved across the polished wooden casket leaving a faint trail of condensation which evaporated into nothingness. He paused at the head of the casket. A warm tear tumbled down his face, eventually reaching his jaw and dropping to nowhere.
Nodding to the funeral workers, he plopped down on the plastic seat and watched as they reverently lowered the casket until it disappeared from his view. Numbness filled his body as he watched the grass dance in the wind. His mind flooded with all of the lost promises of tomorrow. No more late night binge watching. No more vacations. No more her. His future stretched into a long hollow tube. Him, alone. His head collapsed into his hands. He shook with a sorrow extending to all that he is and could have been.
A small hand gently patted his thigh. Looking down at it through the space between his fingers, he placed his hand on top. His eyes moving from hand to wrist and from wrist to shoulder and face. He looked into azure eyes ringed with deep royal blue. Just like – . He cut off the thought. He desperately wanted to go on for her. But how? How could he go on like he promised.
His hand slowly moves across the polished metal which glimmers in the light coming in through the doorway. He pauses at the trigger. A warm tear cuts a strange angle from his cheek into his unkempt beard. He nods to himself, it is time. He carefully sits on the bed and raises the gun to his temple. A small shiver runs down his neck from the coldness of barrel on flesh.
Trying to fill his mind with nothing proves harder than he wants. His mind keeps flooding with all of the promises he had made to her, the girl with the pale blue eyes. No more Saturday morning binge watching. No more dancing in the living room. No more him. Her future stretches before him like an empty corridor. Her, alone. There would be others. Others who could fill that corridor, and should. He is broken. Useless. He knows it. She knows it. His eyes close tight as he draws in a deep breath.
A hand touches his. Opening his eyes, he sees her. The dull thud of metal as it hits carpet.
Dan Earl: I am Dan. I love to write words that have meaning.
Our Reader said:
Vivid sense impressions brought this to life, with an engaging story.