The Finale

A Story by dklp88

Introspections while walking a dog.

I was walking my dog (a Great Pyrenees, or so I have always been told, whose name is Quite), while taking a smoke break.

The rain was starting to come gently down at this point. While the clouds were ominously pointing towards the rain increasing, I did nothing, except to continue my walking. My pace remained the slow steady pace that I was taking before, and as I fumbled with my cigarette lighter, I did not break my stride. Eventually the lighter opened, and I was able to enjoy one of my many vices one last time. The box of cigarettes was all of a sudden empty. I had used the last of them. Quite seemed to match my pace, showing none of her usual impatience, nor her tendency to get bored while I smoke. I wondered if there was something bothering her; if there was something wrong. Though, I would not know what anyways. Her attitudes at times were a mystery to me.

I passed by another street, cigarette in mouth, and lighter in hand.

As I replaced the lighter into the inside of my jacket coat, a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. All I could catch of it was a date, approximately a fortnight ago, but that was enough. I looked down at it, trying to decide if it was worth saving, worth keeping the paper as a memento of the memory. But, as the rain dampened it, I decided that it was only a record of a moment. As long as I didn’t lose the memory, then the disappointment that came with that piece of paper was not going to leave any time soon.

So I continued to walk, my feet stepping heavily on the ground in front of me, and the jacket staining from the water that was coming down in increasing torrents.

On my walk, I passed a bar. I desired to enter and purchase a martini, but I knew that I had no money in my wallet. The twelfth straight day that that sad fact was true. I hoped that it would be all past soon, but one never knows their fortunes. Very fickle things. I continued down the street. Outside a barber shop, there was a mirror, probably designed so people would look in it and decide they need a haircut. I glanced at it while passing by. An unshaven, sunken, gaunt face looked back at me. There seemed to be no more humour in me. Instead, I saw nothing. No life or will to live existed in that brow. The person gazing back at me was hardly a person at all, but merely a shadow.

I turned my head away from the mirror and continued walking.

My phone buzzed. I ignored it. It could wait, and I needed to save on the number of texts I send. Probably another of my friends that asking for advice of some sort, no matter how poor my advice turns out to be. I had come to the conclusion long ago that people look for a friendly ear more than they look for a solution, because it’s the only reason that I can think of that explains why people keep on asking me for advice. I’ve never been equipped to answer their questions, and instead have been stumbling through the dark ceaselessly. Just another failure among a long list of them.

My feet continued ever forward.

There was an emotion in my head that was annoying me, for I couldn’t name it. It wasn’t elation, joy, melancholy, or anxiety. It wasn’t confusion, uninspired, or ecumenical, which probably isn’t an emotion. It eluded me, and every time I tried to put a name on it, I couldn’t. But as I passed through more streets, and the rain continued to pour on me, I realized something. It was a term more base. Though I have been told all my life that one must use terms that are ‘higher’ order words, for they are more specific and sound more academic, there were a reason that these ‘lower’ end words existed. They still mean something. And that was the emotion I was having. I wasn’t feeling some word that has a specific meaning for a specific set of circumstances. It was too general for that. I was just feeling sad. Not depressed, or sorrowful, or gloomy. I was just feeling sad. And that was the only word I needed to describe what I was feeling.

I reached a bridge, and paused on it, looking over the side at the river below.

The river probably would be very cold. It would not be pleasant to go in it, not at all. Quite sat by my side, not trying to pull on her leash as she usually does. I wonder what was going through her head, if anything at all. Cars drove past me, splashing water at the back of my legs. Well, if I was to go into the river, it would at least not feel so cold now. Of course, if I was to fall backwards into the street, well then, I guess there’s no way to make that feel comfortable, even in the slightest bit. Unless I spend years training to feel rubber run over me, with a little hint of metal. And who plans something like that? Probably a very specialized group of fetishists. Good thing I was not one of them. That would probably not end well, to say the least.

I stand by the bridge, and Quite comes up to me, rubbing my leg, and giving what almost seemed to be a friendly smile.

But I was not on that bridge. Instead I was falling down a rabbit hole. Falling down and couldn’t get out. Every time I was finally able to struggle upwards, I was sucked back down further the hole than I was ever before. And so I tumble and fall, trying to find the newest depths. At first, it was a mere triviality, for I held a foolish belief that I was very soon going to crawl out of the hole, and back into the fresh air. But now I no longer hold that as my belief. I know that I will never be able to get out of that hole, the only question is how far I fall down before it all ends. I hoped that it wouldn’t be long, and that the splashdown would be gentle.

Time wore on as I stood on the bridge, and my cigarette started to burn down, until I flicked it into the river below.

I reached into my jacket pocket, but remembered that that was my last cigarette. Now gone and used up. I thought about moving from the spot that I was standing in, for the briefest of moments, but couldn’t force myself to do so. It seemed useless to even try. Instead, it was rather comforting standing here, in between the cars and the river. Almost a balance between the natural world and the world of man. If only I didn’t despise supposed deeper symbolism in everyday life. It was mundane, and the universe doesn’t work like that. Instead, there is no grander meaning out there. Just unorganized chaos.

I rapidly glance between the road and the river below.

Cars kept on speeding by, seemingly increasing in speed the longer I watched. The river below looked as if it was swelling in size, becoming a flood, a mighty flood that threatened to wash away the world. And I was about to be lost because of it. Either by being swallowed by the great sea that was in front of me, or disappearing among the metal beasts that were flashing by.

A sudden flash in my head, where was Quite?

My mind honed in on a singular task. I glanced around. I was still holding the leash, but I couldn’t see Quite anywhere. Quite had disappeared on me, and no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find her again. Then she was there. Right by my side, where she had always been. I petted her on the head. She was my constant friend. My only friend. With that I continued my walk. The rain was pouring in torrents now, but I didn’t mind. It really was only a little bit of water anyways.

And so I continued my walk, Quite trotting happily along next to me.