Adieu

Every now and then I write a short story. These usually arise from travel when I’m exploring a new space, walking through streets and finding my way. It was during one of these trips that I wrote “Adieu.” I hope you enjoy it.

I knew this day would come, yet I don’t feel anything. I’m just numb. I feel him there, waiting, but I don’t attempt to deviate from my predestined path. It’s inevitable really, just like war. I can’t avoid it. If I alter my steps, I’ll only prolong the end. Might as well help it along because the longer I wait the harder it’ll be on everyone else. I don’t want that for them, and I really don’t want this for myself, not now. I would prefer it happen next year or the next, when I’m old and feeble and ready to lie down in the ground.

What I want, though, doesn’t matter; what he wants matters. It’s his plan, his orchestration, his symphony. The orchestra is about to reach a crescendo, a cacophony of sound entering the air, then it’ll fade into oblivion, notes lingering in the air between us till they dissipate, floating out of existence.

I can put it off for a few minutes, I guess. He’ll be there . He’s always there at the prescribed spot, at the prescribed moment, waiting patiently for my arrival. I know he’ll be there. It’s serene here. None of the pressure of constant movement. I can sit, think, prepare myself for my impending encounter. A woman at the corner…