Jim

Jim

Jim walked slowly, he had no place to be. He chose not to notice the people looking away quickly when they passed, or worse staring, as if he were a picture, not real. It had been too many years to be angry anymore, he understood. He was a lesson to them, what can happen if you stop paying attention.

Water under the bridge now, he thought rubbing the long scar on his arm. He had plenty of scars, but most of them not the kind you can see. Like everyone else on the street, he’d had a normal life once. He had a story. He had been just like everybody else, once. A wonderful childhood, a bright future ahead. Suddenly a single day popped into his mind.

His parents had taken him to the beach. They had a picnic and he’d played in the icy ocean water. Afterwards they realized they’d left the bag with his clothes at home, he had to ride home bundled up in the beach blanket and towels. His mother sat close, helping keep him warm as Dad told silly stories. It seemed like a movie now, as if he’d seen it but it hadn’t really happened. It was so long ago.

Jim suddenly felt tired. Ducking into an alley, he sat on a stoop, sad now, overwhelmed. His mind desperately hanging on to that moment; the car, the towels, his mother’s arms around him as they laughed at Dad’s stories. He suddenly wanted that day back. He wanted his whole life ahead of him again. He wanted to do it right this time. “You can Jimmy!” he heard his mother say. He smiled, breathing in the love surrounding him in that car.

When they found his body the next day, he was still smiling.