Cold

The temperatures dipped sharply over the weekend, though the Met department said they would go up again. The weather seemed to indicate that they were on the right path. Still, the numbness didn't seem to be decreasing. Perhaps, it was because it wasn't due in entirety to the weather alone.

Over 24 hours after he received the news, the shock seemed to be sinking in. The reaction to the news would have shocked the giver. A few milleniums ago, the forerunner of such news would have had his chopped off. Yet, as unprotected as a glass house in the middle of an avalanche, OB didn't feel any need for protection from the explosion that he expected but which never came. He felt, instead, pangs of concern. Had his old friend not fully comprehended what he had said? Had he expected it all along? He couldn't make any sense of the remarkable stoicism that he saw in front of him and which didn't seem any more affected than it would be by the defeat of Chile to Morocco at a cricket World Cup qualifier. He left, nonplussed.

OF had, indeed, not realized the full import. There are some things in one's life without which existence is merely an illusion. This was such a thing. It was like the saying that hope springs eternal. He found someone claiming that he could no longer keep that faith in front of him. That the last strings of his basic creed had been cut remorselessly off. He laughed. It couldn't be. They didn't know. They couldn't.

He slept well. No bad dreams. Some weird ones, though. An old school friend who abstained as hard as the worst of the drunkers might have gulped down barrels of pressed grapes. He saw him chain smoking... That was a funny dream. Why such a dream? Because it showed the world would no longer be how he knew it? For the first time, he found himself wondering whether it might be true. Surely, surely not.

It was true. A half hour under a cold shower convinced him. He was freezing by then. Maybe the real truths of life are to be found at sub zero temperatures. He still wasn't crying. He didn't know why. Perhaps because he had nothing left to lose anymore. You can't be lost if you aren't looking for anything, can you? He found himself unable to move. To turn on the warm water tap. To move away from under the cold blast. Every ounce of energy seemed to have been drained away.

The strange world scared him now. There was no one to go back to. No one to worship. It was a world strangely devoid of gods, of paradigms, of inspiration, of hope. He laughed. He knew there was only one path to follow. Because he had only one destination and none of the other roads would reach. Maybe they would meet at the checkout counter.

He laughed again.
Hilarious.
As it had always been.
Bang.
It sounded like a thunderclap.
All was well with the world again.

Because death, like love, changes everything.

********************************************************

H walked away from the grave that had no tombstone, no epitaph, which no one would ever come to visit. He didn't know why he had done it. He would never know now. Perhaps, for the good, there is no place. And J was good. Yet, it is the evil that lives after him, the good is interred with his bones.

But every blade of grass knew. Every flower that swayed in the wind knew. Every leaf murmured in sympathy. Every animal mourned in a minute of silence.

It was Autumn, the time to shed, and wait for spring, the time to start anew.