Immortal days
The chilly air. The buttery smell of the popcorn. The background chatter, the exited crowd awaiting, ecstatic, for their chance to enter into the theater. My wife's soft, warm hands doing away with the cold that had settled in my hands, my son's small, yet quite strong hands holding my other hand as we waited in line. I'll never forget that day.
I normally didn't think about my mortality often if not at all. People, in general, don't think about it often. Yet that day, as I hugged my child's dying body with just a hand of the woman I called my wife on top of him, as he held it for dear life, I had only one thought that would hunt forever
PandaZ · War