The first thing Love noticed when he woke was the feeling of the air. Cool and a bit damp. The light outside was the type of bright white. Filtered by clouds thick enough to stop a from being blue, but thin enough that things wouldn't appear gray.
Love remembered many big trips his parents took him. They'd leave on such days. There were probably many trips the Love family had taken when they had packed their minivan and departed under blue skies as well. But on this morning Love could only recall the trips that began in cool, misty air.
He was about to take the biggest trip of his life yet. There was nobody with him. Closest thing to a travel companion was the letter -- supposedly from Denver -- that he kept in the breast pocket of his shirt.
Love thought about the past 45 years. Whatever he could remember of it. The average person expected themselves to make it to around 80 or beyond. Was the past four and a half decades all the Marc Love got? He thought about his new favorite show. How the season finale would be coming out next summer. He thought to himself, ' I may not be alive long enough to see it.'
At first he felt pity for himself. The rest of the world would go on. They'd get to watch that show while he would be ashes. Or a corpse rotting in an unknown location.
He slammed his fist ontop of the dining table in anger. Didn't put all his force into it. He knew he was just making a show out of it. He knew that he'd regret slamming the table with full force. After a deep breath he realized. That probably a million people were in the same boat as him. A million people wouldn't make it to next summer. They might be missing out on more significant ordeals than just a favorite TV show. They might be leaving a family behind. Missing out on their own wedding. Missing out on the birth of a child.
This at first made Love feel somewhat better. Then it filled him with sadness. Nobody would wonder where he was. He had spent 45 years doing who knows what. And now it was coming to a close. There was nothing to show. And nobody to wonder. Whatever happened to Marc Love? I miss that guy.
Love remembered many big trips his parents took him. They'd leave on such days. There were probably many trips the Love family had taken when they had packed their minivan and departed under blue skies as well. But on this morning Love could only recall the trips that began in cool, misty air.
He was about to take the biggest trip of his life yet. There was nobody with him. Closest thing to a travel companion was the letter -- supposedly from Denver -- that he kept in the breast pocket of his shirt.
Love thought about the past 45 years. Whatever he could remember of it. The average person expected themselves to make it to around 80 or beyond. Was the past four and a half decades all the Marc Love got? He thought about his new favorite show. How the season finale would be coming out next summer. He thought to himself, ' I may not be alive long enough to see it.'
At first he felt pity for himself. The rest of the world would go on. They'd get to watch that show while he would be ashes. Or a corpse rotting in an unknown location.
He slammed his fist ontop of the dining table in anger. Didn't put all his force into it. He knew he was just making a show out of it. He knew that he'd regret slamming the table with full force. After a deep breath he realized. That probably a million people were in the same boat as him. A million people wouldn't make it to next summer. They might be missing out on more significant ordeals than just a favorite TV show. They might be leaving a family behind. Missing out on their own wedding. Missing out on the birth of a child.
This at first made Love feel somewhat better. Then it filled him with sadness. Nobody would wonder where he was. He had spent 45 years doing who knows what. And now it was coming to a close. There was nothing to show. And nobody to wonder. Whatever happened to Marc Love? I miss that guy.