Style revamp and semicolon experiment ig tell me if I used them wrong I've just recently learned how--don't judge I tried not to be too cliche at the end but I probably ended up being cliche XD Warning: Death, hallucinations Elijah White was all alone. Well, not literally; he walked through rainy, damp, crowded streets with people pushing and shoving and rushing to their destinations on all sides. And yet--none of them stopped to talk to the old widower with snow-white hair walking down the street with his old, shriveled hands deep in his jack pockets and eyes melancholily staring at the ground. A short woman with frizzy ginger hair that danced off in all directions even went out of her way to shove him, making him fall to the ground into a muddy puddle. He grunted in exclamation. She laughed. “Boomer.” Elijah was going to let loose some very smart remarks, but the woman had already disappeared into the crowd. “Good for nothing generation…” He muttered to himself as he got up slowly and deliberately, bones cracking in all places imaginable. He was tired of it all. He needed to rest. Looking around, he spotted a rotting bench between a coffee shop and a clothing store. He hobbled over, rubbing his smarting back. Curse that vile woman! He slowly sat down, letting out a long and weary sigh. He gazed up into the muddy grey sky, his mood as dark as the clouds. It had always been that shade, ever since Nancy’s death, and ever would be forevermore. Despair was a sly enemy that always was with you, never taking you down all at once; no, despair was prone to slowly eat away at you, making you weary, yet never letting you rest. Elijah was tired of it--sick and tired of it. Light rain splished and splashed onto the ground, forming little puddles that worked as little mirrors, reflecting a distorted view of the sky. Elijah found himself staring at such puddles, looking into their shallow depths. He knew he had to move, he’d come out here for a reason: he was to go shopping and get the necessary foodstuffs for the week. However, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was too busy staring at the illusions filling the puddle. It was the strangest thing--the reflection in the puddles seemed to be entirely replaced with images and scenes overlaid by a rustic brown tint. Images and scenes of Nancy and Elijah simply having fun--the two at the movies, the two on vacation, the two at a work party, and many more places. It only reminded Elijah of how sad his life was now, how barren and depressing it was without Nancy. The images brought tears to his eyes. He was hallucinating. He was going insane, finally broken from all his grief. He was sure of it. He could only imagine how strange he must have looked, sitting alone on an old bench, staring at dirty puddles and crying to himself. He tore his eyes away from the puddle, blinking away tears, only for his eyes to land on another puddle. This one was overlaid with bright gold, and showed even more painful images: him and Nancy on their first date, him and Nancy on their wedding day, him and Nancy on their many anniversaries. The images tore him up inside. Why was his mind torturing him so? Elijah squeezed his eyes shut; he couldn’t bear it anymore. But once again his eyes betrayed him. His eyes landed on one final puddle. This one was the worst of them all. This time the images were overlaid by a dingy grey; the only color that could match the images, because this time weren’t of him and Nancy’s best times together--this time they were of Nancy on her deathbed. It had been almost a year now, but the images still lurked in his mind, waiting for something to trigger them. And here were the images sitting right in front of him in the form of a minuscule body of water.
Nancy, her skin pale, her arms weak, her movements slow and painful, laid on a hospital bed in a hospital gown. Elijah was standing next to her, fretting about the unhealthy vitals on the bedside screen. “Are you alright?” He’d asked, gripping Nancy’s hand. “Of course I’m not, you dolt--I’m in a hospital!” Nancy had said in a light-hearted and energetic manner that, even on her deathbed, Nancy achieved. That hadn’t calmed Elijah one bit. He’d continually asked her the same question, and kept getting the same answer. Eventually, Nancy had determined that that was enough and told him to go get her a water bottle from the vending machine. Elijah had had no option but to comply. He’d just begun walking out the door when Nancy had started coughing. A horrible, hacking cough that made Elijah wheel around and race over to her. “Are you alright?” He’d asked, grabbing her. “Are you alright?” She made no response; she could make no response. Eventually, she stopped coughing. Elijah had breathed out a sigh of relief. Then he’d noticed Nancy’s still form. Then he’d heard the loud sound of flatlining. Then he’d realized Nancy was dead. Elijah ripped himself out of memory. He looked at the puddle again. This time that puddle, and all of the puddles, were just little puddles of water again. No more images. Just him, all alone. Tears flowed from his eyes. He felt hollow. Why? Why had Nancy been taken away from him? Why? He looked around at the people, all the people who had no idea who Nancy was. They didn’t care she was dead--why would they? Yet it still felt wrong, like Nancy’s death was all of a sudden inconsequential, that he was inconsequential-- His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice in front of him. “Hey, dude, you good?” It was the same woman who had shoved him to the ground and said “Boomer.” What did she want? “You don’t look good to me.” She continued. “What do you want?” Elijah said, looking up. “I felt bad about earlier and saw you sitting over here, down in the dumps. So I decided to come see if you were feeling alright.” She plopped down on the bench next to him. Elijah didn’t respond. “Are you alright?” The woman asked. “No, no I’m not.” Elijah said, finally. “What’s up?” “It’s-It’s my wife. She passed away a year ago and I’m not quite over it.” Elijah blurted out. “Want to talk about it?” Elijah paused. “No, I’m good. Thank you though.” He said finally. The woman got herself up. “Whelp, I got to go, then. Things to do, places to be.” “Goodbye.” Elijah said as she walked away. Elijah was left all alone again. But now he felt better, in a way. He knew that someone cared, despite that that someone had shoved him to the ground minutes earlier and was way too nosy. Nancy’s death still ripped at his heart, though; there was no denying that.
