Copyright 2010 by Molecat Jumaway
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Salcolm Krinski stared at the mirror before him, it’s reflection, tired and worn staring back at him. It revealed so much to him, the lines, the sad eyes. Like the ticking of a large hollow clock a moment only reflected a moment. The passing of time was merely the passing of time. Each tick and each tock resonating painfully with Salcolm.
There was a bottle on the table at his side, these days there was always a bottle at his side. He grabbed it by its neck and put it to his lips. Took a deep swig, filled his mouth full of bourbon and then let it slide down his throat. He was getting old, he knew that. There was no reason anymore, there seemed no real reason for anything. It’s not like he was saving himself for anyone, or anything. There was not one moment that made a difference to himself. There were many moments that made a huge difference to many people, nothing that made a difference to himself.
He looked back in the mirror, so much was missing, ten minutes ahead, twenty years behind.
He remembered the day’s events clearly, with disdain. It was his childhood he yearned to picture, his teenage years, his parents. But somehow he had misplaced it all, careless or stupid, probably a bit of both. It had only been recently that he thought it was a strange thing to happen, but many strange things happened. He assumed that it was because his head was full of other people’s moments, something had to be pushed out, something that the world did not need. Salcolm wished he had those moments more than any other moments, he wanted something to cherish. He never seemed to have anything that was his, his to cherish. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head, did not work, he took another swig of bourbon, a little better but still that day was crystal clear in his mind.