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by Reason
Rated: E · Prose · Dark · #1920318
Everything is static - unchanging. And he could use something else, anything else.
He sipped his coffee, black, in the same mug he’d always used. A newspaper was draped on the table in front of him but he couldn’t read it. There was too much of everything and he just wanted the silence, he wanted to be left alone. But then again, he was always alone. The ache was so terrible it made him hate moving for the pain was unbearable.

There wasn’t much time left to him, he knew that. He slowly put on his shoes and tied them before stepping out, holding the jacket around him tightly, trying to keep out the rain. Drops of water sprinkled his thin peppered hair and he stared at the floor in front of him.

Day by day would pass and nothing ever changed. Change was supposed to be inevitable, but nothing was changing any more. He passed by shop after shop and they were all relatively bare. Guess no one wanted to be out and about in this weather. The cold had seeped into his bones and his joints ached, along with his muscles. His heart pumped slowly, painfully in his chest and he just wanted to sit for a while.
There was nowhere to sit just yet, though.

He came to a little diner, old looking and completely bare. The bell rang to signal him entering and he cringed at the loud sound. A young woman came over once he sat and smiled so sweetly at him, and he just ordered a black coffee. She came back and he looked at the different mug in her hands, somehow very please he wasn’t at home using the same mug he always did.

Just as she was about to leave, he called her quietly by the name on her shirt and asked her just to sit and talk a while, since no one else was there. Hesitation crossed her face but not long after she obliged. He told it’s been a while since he had had company, and he could use another voice to listen to. So she talked to him. She told him of her life, her aspirations and where she was right now. She told him she’d thought she’d be further on in life and was disappointed with how it was going.

This girl sitting in front of him, looking so innocent and so new had so many problems already and it was actually refreshing. She was smart and she’d go far, he could tell.

After just a little while of talking, her words slowed and they were sitting in silence. She glanced at him through bright eyes and asked him, if it wasn’t too inappropriate why he looked so worn down. He hardly looked old enough to look worn down. He smiled and it hurt. The ache in his chest grew just a little bit bigger. He hadn’t anyone to tell before this.

“It’s terminal,” he said, just gruff voice so weak and strained. She only nodded in understanding before placing a delicate hand on his large one.

“Stop by any time and I’ll talk to you.”

He nodded, paid for his coffee and left. But he was back the very next day. Her eyes lit up and once more they talked. After a while she got him to tell her of his old life, the one he had before things just went wrong.

It wasn’t until just a few months later he stopped showing up, and she knew why. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and went home sick. She would be the only one to carry around his memory, and she would tell others of her encounter with a man at the diner and of all they talked about. His pained smile was engraved in her mind and she would never forget those kind, gray eyes with too much wisdom.
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