A man in his early fourties, in front of his desk-top computer. He has set up an office in his home, which is far away from everything. When he looks out the window, he sees green instead of grey. A rabbit’s tail. His dogs. The red sprinkles of wild strawberries. His heart pounds. He wonders what is exciting him. Before he is able to complete the thought, he is overwhelmed by an entirely new sensation. His heart no longer pounds within him. It thrashes outside him.
Thud, thud, thud.
He can hear it as a separate entity which is about to bounce off his chest, onto his desk and burst. I am going to die, he thinks. Actually, I am already dying.
He wants to stand up but can’t. He throws himelf out of his chair. He is on his hands and knees. Like one of the dogs, he thinks, and one of the dogs thinks the same because it jumps on him, licks his face. Crawl you bastard, crawl. It’s all he can think. It is difficult as he is a big man. Tall and heavy, and his heart hangs from his chest.
Thud. thud. thud.
Louder than the sound of his own voice. Maybe he isn’t really calling for her. Maybe he only hears it in his head. “Maya,” he says, “Maya.”
It won’t do. He must write it down. He cannot leave without having said where he is going. He has promised her that. He manages, somehow, to reach up and grab the corner of a newspaper on his desk. It falls on the ground between him and the dog. It has laid it’s head on it’s paws and stares at him. Pencil, there is a pencil somewhere on the floor. He is about to believe in miracles. He clutches the pencil in his fist and scratches across the newspaper “Maya, I am dying.” Next he writes, “Jason, Duncan and Alice, I am proud of you.”
Why did he do it in that order? he wonders in the time it takes for his heart to fall.
you wrote this beautiful down, it feels so vivid almost like dying
thank you, Louise.