trešdiena, augusts 4

The Maple Leaf.

An old man was sitting on the porch of his house, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a smoking cigarette in the other. It was silent.

A storm was coming, there was no doubt, the ache in the old bones couldn`t be mistaken, and it was so silent and grey, as it always is right before the storm. He loved it. At his age he only had love for three things left – coffee, cigarettes and the beautiful silence before the storm, and now he had all of them at the same time, although doctor had forbidden at least two of them.
He was alone – the town was empty – there was no traffic, there was no sound. The new generation had left the town for bigger cities and the old one had died. There were no friends and no strangers, he was sitting all alone with his coffee and the endless silence.
A bright orange maple leaf floated above the road along his house. The old mans` eyes wide open were looking at the leaf. It was something strange, in the surrounding grayness the bright leaf looked as if it had come from another world. The old mans` heart filled with excitement and joy, feelings he last felt when playing chess with Oliver, about 7 years ago. He tried to think – where it might had come from? There were no maple trees in this town – at least none he could think of. Was it even the right season for maple leaves to turn orange?
He kept his eyes on the leaf that was floating gently down and then up again, depending on the breezes. He felt unexplainable peace every time it went up and then terrible fear every time it went down. As if leafs` life would depend on staying in the air. OH NO! He gasped when the leaf floated only few inches above the ground, but then it got pushed upwards again. He couldn`t think of any reasonable action he should do – should he try to catch the leaf? Or maybe let it float and hope it`ll never fall? The storm wasnt far anymore. You could feel it in the air.
It seemed that the leaf was heading up, above his house, when suddenly a wind came and blew it crashing into the ground. A silent gasp came from the mans` lips and there was a sound of breaking glass. Thunder clapped and small raindrops started to fall on the ground.

An old man was lying on the porch of his house, a broken cup of coffee was next to him and a smoking cigarette butt in his hand. His heart was silent.

Noone is gonna water Elmers` flowers anymore.

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