It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City

Just when fall was about to show its true colors, a strange warmth filled the last days of summer. A young artist, sitting quietly in a bench in front of the fountain, making little sounds that resonated all around him, played his guitar with a loving gentle touch. As a romantic fellow as him, he found pleasure in the simple things that life brought upon him. A young lady soon aproached him and both started sharing a word together. They had met before, on a similar situation such as today. But this day was different: she looked sad, distant, almost as if hope had left her body.

Her mother had died the night before, leaving no much more than pennies. ' She was so fragile that just a cold would have taken her away. ' Just as the light disappeared from her eyes, the young lady realized the inevitable truth of loneliness, for she now was all alone in her old home. She was a part-time waitress and a student at a nearby college. The young artist knew she would be all right, but a sense of doubt and despair began growing inside of him. They stayed together for a little while, chatted a bit, but the young artists continued on with his path with a promise to call her soon enough.

He really had to go: he had a rehearsal to attend to. As he walked along the park, he tried to warm his hearth with a song. And so, he sang, watching as the lillies and sunflowers blomossed in the still greenish grass. Despite the harsh news, he wouldn't let his morale go down so easily. After all, he was young an full of life. The music made the joy rise among the landscape: kids playing on the field, an old couple holding hands, the rotting corpse of a pigeon, friends walking by.

As he aproached his friend's house, the sun was all high up in the sky, making all the beautiful summer colors gleam with cheerfulnes: the flowers, the trees, the brownish familiar houses. He opened the cherry wood door carefully, being polite. He greeted him as he always did, with a big hug and grin on his face. Imagine the surprise of the young artist when he was met with tears instead of joyousness. A mutual friend of them had comitted suicide just the night before. ' He couldn't bear with the nonsensical nature of the world and the loneliness he felt inside him'. It couldn't be possible, it seemed like tragedy followed him around. Whatever, life goes on, with all their twists and turns. Right?

They sat quietly together. After a while, the friend apologized saying he should have called earlier. The young artist, not letting distress creep inside him, said it didn't matter at all. He stood up, hugged him one last time and went out into the world once again. The strange summer warmth was replaced by some cold breeze. With the guitar at his hands, he began singing once again to brush the pain away. Life goes on, the world shines brigtly despite the adversity. The sound of water passing nearby, the little insects running around behind the bushes, the putrid smell of garbage, a homeless man eating his fingers.

There's nowhere to go now. The young artists returns to his apartment, and lays in bed with his guitar by his side. Noon had brought up some orange color to the city, beautiful, romantic and magestic, or as if someone is trying to burn it to the ground. His phone sounds. When he picks up, its the voice of the lady from the bench. ' I don't know if I can continue living like this. I don't know if I can bear with it...'. He understands every word. He knows what she is gonna do. He isn't sure what to do.

When he went to bed again, there was no color anymore, just little dots of light, like hellfire. He lost track of his guitar, of the surroundings. He found himself walking all alone in a cemetery. A mirror was in front of him. His face became wrinkly and his hair began to fall. His teeth followed soon after. Before he noticed, he was empty: a shell of a man. At that point, he just needed a little summer warmth.

Word Count: 724