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Wednesday. 09/21/05. 2:18:48 AM
Eiji Shinrow is dead. Nobody knew at the time. And nobody cared
at the time. The world had its own worries and sorrows to pick
up on another more.
When his eyes had last blurred, he looked at the ceiling in
front of him, too high now for his thin arms to reach, too high
now for him to touch its rough dirty surface, the dirty black
dust spots here and there, the rough dirt stuck on there and
here.
The room was dark, the dim street light barely making it through
the white curtain at his window, silhouette dancing here and
there.
Staring at the ceiling, his arms and legs now already much too
numb to even move a single inch, asleep already and ready for
the long nap, Eiji wondered about what he should have for the
last thought, or if he should utter any other last words like
they always do in the big budget movies, something that would
redeem all his sins and errors made in his pointless life, a
supporting character, a supporting life.
Staring at the ceiling, he wondered if he should even cry.
The light dimly playing in his eyes, the shadows of the objects
in his room filling his last visions. Eiji Shinrow wondered if
anything else would change for one man's life, for one man's
death.
Nobody knew he was dead at the time. Nobody probably even cared.
Eiji Shinrow sighed his last breath as his lungs slowly
collapsed on its own, all those proteins and DNA and cells now
going to waste, ready to decompose and rot already.
Eiji Shinrow didn't know whether to open his eyes or close them
for his final second on Earth. |
