The Old Man and the Young Girl

My feet pounded against the pavement. My heart rushed. My knees ached. My head began to spin, but I forced myself to keep moving. 'Just until you reach the next tree' I'd coach myself, 'Just until you reach that next light post'. The constant stream of little goals kept my feet hitting the pavement, one after the other. It was an uphill battle, literally. The minor slope it appeared to be during the five minute drive turned into a mile long hike. So maybe I was somewhat less fit than I should be, appearances are deceiving. The incline was steeper than it appeared. I don't care what you say.

I had less than an hour. One hour until the familiar red car pulled into my driveway and I was supposed to be at home. So I kept running, despite the protests of every tissue, every fibre, every molecule of my being. You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. I've never wanted to be anywhere more than I wanted to be at this destination. And then, finally, the familiar two storey building loomed in front of me. Nostalgia swirled in my stomach as I approached the oldest home I had. 

He sat in his chair. He always sat in his chair. He could barely move any more. It takes him ten minutes just  to answer the door these days, so he leaves it unlocked. He didn't even notice when I walked into the room. I kissed him on the cheek. He was thinner than I remember. His skin was paper thin and drained of colour and the smile I had remembered was turned down at the edges. It had been years since I had seen him, the result of s family feud that had very little to do with me. I rested my head on his shoulder, sitting on the arm of his chair. My short black hair sprawled across his chest. My hears was racing, my chest heaved and my nose bubbled with sweat. but I could hear his irregular heart beat, I could feel the slow inhale and exhale of his breath. He would die. I would miss him. He refused medical treatment. So we sat there for a few moments. I was unsure of how much time passed. I just rested against him, eyes turned towards the television, watching the golf ball roll alone a field. 

And then I left. 

A girl sat on the curb across the street. He brown hair covered her face. He head was in her hands. She doubled over. Her shoulders shook. She was sobbing. I ran over to her, and placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped, startled and glanced up at me. There was a black circle around her left eye, purple splotches dotted her cheeks and blood and tears streamed down her face. 

But my dears, that is a story for another time. 

I love you, dear reader, just for clicking on my blog. And I promise I will try not to leave you in suspense for long. 

Thanking you

Ada xxx