mental health, awareness
|Where had he been going? He couldn't remember. He was sure he had known just the moment before. Was it a moment? He could only guess.
It all looked so unfamiliar, like he'd gotten off one stop too early or fallen asleep en route only to be prompted by the driver that he'd ridden the full route and reached the terminal.
There were other people nearby, he was sure of it, but all he could see was shoes. Empty piles of shoes; herded in the street and staggering the sidewalks. He could feel the brush of air from bicyclists unseen. He wanted to reach out, just once, but his hand had grown comfortable in the warmth of his pocket.
His fingers dragged upon a miniature washboard which responded with a muffled rattle. He removed the container and squinted.
c/o Elsa Soultrane
2010 Station Road
20 mg per day
"Elsa.", he said lightly. "Elsa loves Bernard." The echo of her voice, forever eighteen, stitched hearts and time in a comfortable cross stitch pillow top of their design.
He glanced down the block, hesitating upon one door and then the next, until he saw the neighborhood black and white sitting curbside.
He remembered Elsa. He was thankful she had chosen to stay. He had worried her again; something he had promised himself he'd not permit himself to do. Maybe they were right. He had, after all, had a fabulously full life. Maybe it was time to retire. Maybe, his time should be Elsa's. He smiled and opened the door knowing he had found his way home.