The Wall

January 16, 2012
” What are you doing?”

There is a blank wall in front of him, a white washed wall. Behind him he could here the heavy footsteps of his brother as he walked through the threshold, heard him taking a slow long breath.

“Remember when we used to play together? When we were kids, not so long ago?”

The glowing light above him illuminated a small closet like room, one white wall and five concrete gray stones interrupted by a black oak door.

“We used to play…” He paused for a moment concentrating on the memory.

“We used to play baseball right? Or handball, something to do with balls.”

His head rested against the wall, pressed there firmly. He was seeing the memory against the white of the walls, him and his brother tossing a softball back and forth. The ball plopped into his hands every time, coming to rest with a little roll to the top of his palm before settling. He had always thrown the ball as hard as he could, sometimes just to see his little brother run across the field.

“I’m sorry about this, I’m not sure how we got here, but I never wanted to do this. If this is the last thing you’ll ever remember then I just want you too know that…” he turned, facing the black oak door.

“I want you to know that I love you.”

As those words fell from his lips he walked through the threshold, shutting the black door behind him surprisingly silently. Alone in the room Allen watched his life play out before his eyes against the white of the wall. Every joyous moment, every crushing heartache, every cutting lie, every hard truth he’d ever heard, played across the screen. 24 years of life played across a white screen, and slipped from the eyes of a young man. Allen fell to the floor, eyes wide open breathing shallow breathes, devoid of life except in the loosest sense of living.

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