I imagine soft pricks of lush green grass against flesh
A half-hidden sun illuminating my face to a warm glow
The incessant chirp of – I can’t

It’s hell, Flames wrapped around my soul freezing it with cynical desolation

The shy sun walks as I do, hiding behind briefly illuminated trees, and continuing to morph slowly to a delicious pink
The gleeful sounds of children learning to tumble down a yellow slide and then eagerly bounding back up
To waste more of their precious time in fruitless ventures at fulfillment
I sit on the bench, slowly lowering my body until the bench holds me

“These kids must be disillusioned” the thought circles in my head, lowering itself to pick off a section of meaty retort
“I must be disillusioned”
I spring up, being my age this occupation takes me multiple moments of absent-minded concentration

One of the toddlers topples down the slide, going head of over heels and then once more
The toddler’s enormous eyes lift and fill with a sadness completely ignorant of all pain but his own
His eyes search for his custodian and when they lock upon her, he pauses
For mere seconds he focuses utterly on her
Silently asking if it is indeed okay for his world to implode because of the trauma he has just faced

My mind wonders to the mother giving a smile and a reassuring nod, and the toddler springing forth and continuing back up the slide, as if the entire event was only a unimportant illusion

But, alas instead the tentative custodian’s face transforms into one of maternal fear and consternation
The toddler’s world breaks
Shattering all that was or ever would be in a spontaneous cyclone
Wiping out all the impending joy he may have had on that yellow slide

I walk on, the sun following, as an intrigued stranger
Although not directly pestering me, it makes me uneasy, looming over with some greater, unknown purpose

As I peer over my shoulder I see the child waddling over to its caregiver, weeping for the world to cease rather than having to endure his torment for a moment more
The rest of the children play, even happier to have one less nuance expending there primary source of entertainment

As I turned, a shaggy creature presents itself twenty paces forward

When I come to the battered companion, it perches its hindquarters on the grass
Its furry head rotates in lazy but genuine intrigue
A warm smile, the first smile starts to creep across my tired face
My leather hand moves down to touch the fluffy animal
When my hand approaches the scruffy fur, it does not make contact
Not rustling the dogs shaggy head a single hair

The inferno of time rushes back and brings tangible fear to my senses
Once the intangibility of the unknown frightened me, but now the tangibility of the know does just the same

I make it to my house

I sit next her, the single soul I have eternally been able to endure
I rest myself on the hand-woven seat of the old rocker and turn my body to face her
She intently weaves a garment from yarn, her hands elegantly moving to fashion the article
She finishes for the time, and stares out the window into the pubescent night
Her hand rests on her velvet armchair and makes a crescent

I tentatively advance my hand toward hers and surround it
Her eyes shoot toward me, but seem to stare beyond me as if I’m not there

What torment, forced to be together, but alone, unable to reconcile

I move my hand up to her face, in some vague attempt to ease her, but it passes though her face and she turns back toward the window

Forever alone, I stare at her for minutes more, and I know there is only one option

To bring her antediluvian spirit plummeting past pain and despair instantaneously to something so-ever more infinity, but yet so-ever more soft and kind.
I must be the hand of death that pulls her past the diaphanous barrier that defines the undefinable
I shall pull her closer to me in the most meaningful way, while otherwise forcing her away from everything else she loves or cherishes

I know this is not the only option
I must pass on and leave the bland-cheer of life behind