I felt the sudden, strong nudge on the middle of my back. I opened my mouth too scream, but nothing came out, as my body pushed itself through the thin, transparent glass of the window.
I grabbed onto what seemed to be bricks lined up along the building. But the walls of the building weren't made up of bricks. Popcorn like bumps raced across the palm of my hand as I was tumbling down. The texture was comforting, even as I was falling from hundreds of feet. The rough, stained surface of the wall triggered a memory of Father's form once he left his body.
His skin was also rough, like walls of the building, but it was forever stain the color I despised, the color of death. Father's body couldn't be cleaned with some bubbly soap and luke warm water. It was permanent; irreversible.
Father's hands didn't have the warm and soft touch they once had as his hands briskly guided the blank canvas. All of the colors of the rainbow could be seen in his masterpieces. It was something I could always count on; like the sun rising each morning. Mother's face always shone though whenever Father proudly showed off his latest piece.
Mother. Her warm face grabbed a hold of my mind. Would Mother be alright though she would never see my face again? Even though most of the time Mother was out of the real world because of the pills she gobbled down, claiming she had an extremely rare disease she magically got shortly after Father passed, I loved Mother. Gentle tears moistened my eyes and began to run down my face. Before they could reach the tip of my nose, they were gone. Nonexistent; just like I will be.
My eyes focused on a red rose lingering in a forest green bush. It mimicked the same rose Joshua had given me yesterday. A golden band, delicate and narrow, with a large, but modest diamond placed carefully on top, and was placed on my finger after the red rose. As if on timing, the ring slipped off my finger and gracefully flew through the air until gravity took a hold of it. The ring couldn't be easily defeated though; gravity had to fight for the right to lay down the ring, because the ring bounced delicately a few times before turning itself over to gravity.
To the right of me, walking upon the dirty sidewalk of the city, an image of a young mother pushed a stroller with a tiny one year old safely fastened in it. I cried, just letting my tears flow. It didn't matter if they disappeared or not. I craved to have a little girl, just like the child in the stroller.
An odor of a homemade grilled cheese sandwich soared in the air and rested in my nose. I am going to miss the grilled cheese that Joshua made for us after hours of studying for our psychology course we shared together at the local university.
My mind seemed to not grasp anything anymore as the color I despised on a car reached closer and closer and closer . . .
