One at a time he snuffed out the flames, sending trails of gray smoke up into the black velvet sky. Now it seemed as if the handful of flames which remained burned brighter, trying to make up for their brothers and sisters who had fallen into darkness.
The young man looked around him and realized everyone had gone home, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It was exactly what he had tried to avoid. He glanced down at the small flames once more, and couldn’t bring himself to extinguish them. They were full of life, dancing in the breeze like a child through a field of grass.
Images flashed in his mind of a night two years ago. Two years ago tonight to be exact. That night was the reason he stood on the side of a road, surrounded by candles, flowers and letters. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry. The moisture which should have been in his throat was streaming down his cheeks. His legs grew weak and he lowered himself to the ground with the help of his cane.
A streak of fire shot through his leg as he knelt, causing him to grit his teeth in pain. His face however didn’t show an ounce of the physical agony he was experiencing. The tears which slid slowly down the curve of his cheeks were from a much deeper and stronger pain, one which bit at his soul and tugged on his heart with fish hooks.
He tried to swallow again, but he was still unsuccessful. The wicks on the little candles had almost been completely consumed before he believed he could speak. Words failed him. There was no word for the sorrow he felt. There was no word to erase the hot ball of guilt in his chest. There was no word to bring the dead back to life. All he had were tears, and that wasn’t enough.
Mile 29 