jakelamtn:
ReflectsA man sits beside himself on a bench. He always finds himself here, late at...
ReflectsA man sits beside himself on a bench. He always finds himself here, late at night after a rainy day, watching the reflections of street lights in ripples on the canal. He turns towards himself, then up to the glowing sky. There are sirens in the distance, there were always sirens in the distance.
He sighs. The slowly pulsing lights on the bridge catch his eye. Are they new? How had he not seen them before?
“It’s funny, the things you notice on your way out.”
He agrees, then quickly shakes the thought. How long had he been here anyway? Why was he always here? He tries to look at himself again, but quickly turns his head to the ground.
“It’s always there, you know.”
He knows, but feels as though he’s floating, drifting along with the waves that carry the light across the surface of the water. How much longer will it be?
“I don’t know, but I’m here now.”
He drops his head into his hands, too exhausted to cry or scream or lash out at the darkness like he had before. This is it, he thinks.
Nodding, “this is it.”
Slowly, they turn. His beard is grey and unkempt, his lips are cracked and his skin is marked with scars. Sitting alone on this bench, they look into eachother’s eyes for the first time. Never before had they felt so distant and alone.
