Slowly, ever so slowly, he sits upon the bench, paying no conscious mind to the dry leaves that crackle beneath him. As he is sitting upon this bench I come to notice his mental distance from the surrounding world. His conscious thoughts are enveloped by his subconscious, and his eyes are as blank as his mind seems to be. But yet there is an awareness about him; when the breeze drifts across his face, his eyes blink, when a leaf falls upon his knee, his head gives a slight, almost unnoticeable jerk. But otherwise he remains unmoving, a mimicry of the marble statue across the way that resembles the town's hero. A cloud passes over the sun and his pupils dilate slightly, but still he does not move.
A few moments later he shows a sign of life. His hands slowly move from their previous positions (one upon each thigh) and creep over to each other to clasp together in his lap. During this his face remains marble. As I look upon him I wonder about his thoughts and how he can think without his eyes showing it. I'm just about to walk over to him when he sees me at the bench diagonal from his, half standing, half sitting. He turns his head slowly and looks at my eyes, his show the first glimmer of awareness. I don't move as he gently licks his lips and his Adam's apple bobs slightly. He prepares to speak. His words come out in a barely audible whisper, "Never live a life that was never meant to be lived." Then he turns his head to face forward, closes his eyes, and lets his breath leave his body in one final sigh. |
