The Repaired Awning
Before the late afternoon sun sunk behind the hills, powdered white like a carefully crafted doughnut, a sound sliced the crisp, previously muted air. As far as Park knew, he was isolated. Utterly removed from civilization. Just the way he preferred. Yet… Yes. There was laughter traveling on the frigid breeze, whispering away in a language unexplored by him. He waited. The last remnants of searing light hunkered away entirely out of view, eclipsed once more. Park could no longer see his breath in the air as it danced and gently shimmered in golden hues.
He could no longer see the endless faces in the clouds that peered at him from their sapphire ocean.
He could no longer see the hills across the valley, looming yet comforting.
He could no longer feel the warmth of the dying fire beside him.
He could no longer lift his arms to pile on the firewood.
He could no longer linger in unwanted memories.
He could no longer sense the cold.
City lights appeared in front of Park’s unblinking eyes; he paced on the stoop of an apartment building, the rain pelting him through the slashed awning. No one answered the door, as Park knew they wouldn’t. No one lived there anymore. Behind him, the noise of the bustling city faded into nothing as the frost began to gnaw away at what was left of a man once full of vibrance.
Far away, a door opened, and soft snow landed delicately atop an intricate updo through the tattered awning. Laughter erupted through the noisy and crowded city, relinquished to the honks of cabs and other date-night goers giggling a little too hard at their date’s jokes. A laugh lost in a boisterous city. A laugh uncovered in the flitting ray of embers, so tangible Park could see it.