The rage from his bleeding heart dissipated like a summer storm. Which is to say it never really went away. The lightning and thunder stopped, but the rain still speckled the ground, and formed ever-increasing puddles. The storm had died down from being a destructive force to anything within range, to something much more tolerable. Except for the simple fact that matters of the heart were never merely tolerable.
Charles found himself on a bench with wet clothes sticking to his skin and lakes in his shoes. The rain in the real world had diminished to a staggered sprinkle, while the salty rain inside of him was quickly creating a flash flood. He twirled the white gold ring on his left hand. How did the world change overnight? One day was all it took. Charles thought of the events of last summer, and how beautiful she looked in her white dress. One year and already forever was over.
Suddenly the rain stopped falling around him as a woman sat on the bench next to him, holding an umbrella over his head.
“Thank you.” He said, barely lifting his head from his slumped position.
“Whats wrong?” Charles knew her voice. One of the tenets from the third floor, or maybe the fourth. He wasn’t sure, but he did know she was the one who owned a small Shepard dog. They had a conversation long ago about her dog, when he had first moved in, but he couldn’t recall the details now. “Trouble in paradise?” She added on when he didn’t respond.
“Something like that.” A long silence passed between them. It was interrupted at last by the sound of the woman scooting a bit closer. She rested her hand on his elbow. Her touch was as gentle as a feather and freezing cold. Regardless of the cold, her hand did not shake. It just sat there like the touch of a ghost and yet it was reassuring and comforting.
The silence between them continued even though cars passed along the street and people walked by them on the sidewalk. Charles kept his gaze on the ring he fiddled with in his hands. Sometimes he took it off, twirling it between his fingers and sliding it along his palm. Other times he slid it from one finger to the next. Of course it was always a perfect fit on his ring finger.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. She was always the perfect fit for him, for as long as he could remember. Even when they were young they fit together like a sour apple and caramel. He was the sweet to her sour, but it had gone too far. How could it crumble to pieces so quick?
Charles rose from the bench and began to walk away. He had taken just a few steps when he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
“Thank you.” he said. He looked back to the wet sidewalk gleaming in the glow of the streetlights. He followed the cement pathway with his eyes until the darkness engulfed it. He then shifted his eyes to the second floor windows. Their lights shone bright in the black of a moonless night. He turned and grasped the wet cold steel handle, and pulled the door open.
Mile 29 