For The Writer's Cramp, an old man musing on things that used to be.
| It was if time stood still. The scenery was a blur around him. What he saw before him stunned him, made him think that there was no humanity left. A young, pregnant woman was being robbed and everyone was walking past as if nothing was happening. He reached for his cell phone but before he could even finish dialing the young men took off laughing. Sighing he walked over to the young woman to see if she needed help. Only to be rebuffed rudely as she picked herself up and continued on her way. He blinked, then shook his graying head. Continuing his walk, he noticed for the first time all the groups clustered on different corners, eyeing each other suspiciously. Most stood defensively with guns not so secretly hidden in their clothes. Most were heavily tattooed and pierced wearing pants that looked like they would fall off if you tugged on them too hard. The harsh smell of marijuana tickled his nose as he passed an alleyway.
Things had changed from when he was growing up. He was no stranger to suffering and horror, after being through a war one got used to it. But what he couldn’t get used to was the callousness his fellow humans showed each other. Where had the camaraderie gone, the love for you’re fellow man. Did it really matter what part of the country you were from, what race you were? He had many a friend in the army that was a different race, religion, backgrounds. It didn’t matter, as long as they had your back. You were a family, a close-knit community. You lived and breathed and died for each other.
He continued his limping way down to the local VA, where he was scheduled to meet with a few friends. As he stopped at a red light a pretty young girl walked over to him. Smiling she offered him a hand to cross the road. Taking her small hand in his large, calloused ones, he though maybe there was some humanity left after all. If this young lady was any prove.