Some things in this world, we just need.

Tremble

It wasn’t until the third day that we found him. His eyes were round and wide, staring into space as if he couldn’t tear his gaze from an invisible train wreck. Nobody knew what was wrong with him at first, not until he jumped up from the hospital bed to finally take the cure. He hadn’t shown up for work in a week and it was only the next Tuesday that his office reported him missing. As we turned onto his street to look for him, there was an audible hush throughout. No children or mothers were in sight, only empty staircases leading up to doorways. Papers fluttered in the winds and were blown every direction, but no noise heralded the passage of air. It was a cold street for a warm summer day, and empty and alone. Each step up to the landing made our hearts quiver, and the echoes of our feet on the stairwell resonated deep in our ears. I never thought we would reach that door, even at the end of the hallway. It seemed an eternity away, and even my partner’s usual banter could only be heard as if through a long tin-can phone line. The door itself seemed much larger than any of us, as if it loomed as a Kubrick obelisk and cast us all in its shadow. When finally the courage was mustered to open the door, the apartment seemed plain and quaint, but it was the kitchen where we found him. Cabinets were strewn open, their contents scattered about. A kettle lay on its side, knocked off the stove and to the floor. There he sat, trembling in his frightened state. We were hesitant to even touch him. What disease was this? What horrible thing had he seen? What had happened, and more importantly, what could we do? It wasn’t until in the hospital that the nature of his affliction became apparent. The cure was obvious once it was known. He lunged at a passing nurse, and was finally able to lay his hands on a cup of coffee.