Just Another Day

I remember the swarm of black clouds, pulsing as if they had veins, stagnant up above. The endless gray washed an austere tone over the cracked sidewalk and street (the latter damaged so badly it resembled a nation of concrete islands.) I was walking to an unknown destination as the ghosts of my friends, alive and dead, circled around me. They were moaning about the monotony of a heart's pulse and the downsides to breathing. As I attempted to block them out, I saw an old man, of about 70 or 75, bleeding and crying on the sidewalk as his white robe turned a crimson hue..I rushed over and grabbed his hand and as I was helping him up, he stabbed me in the gut with a small hidden blade. Kneeling down and grabbing my wound (the knife was still in it) the old man calmly told me “Look up.” The veins in the clouds burst open, spraying confetti onto the bleakness of humanity. I looked around and my friends were gone. They were finally at peace. So was I. And I will never forget what the old man told me before I hit the ground: “Kindness kills”