Sitting up was especially hard. Like gravity times a thousand held him down. So he lay there, staring up through the long long tunnel into the blue sky. He watched clouds drift by. Then night came and the stars appeared. He watched those drift by too. Every day the same, every night the same. But sometimes the moon would pass overhead. He felt the loneliest on those nights. And sometimes the rain fell, which made him cry. But he never moved. Like a rock, the weight in his chest smooshed him down. It hurt.

A leaf floated down the well one autumn day and landed next to him. The leaf and he lay side by side, looking up into the sky. And days passed by, stars too, and he was comforted. When the moon passed over, he wasn’t sad. He shared its light with the leaf by his side.

Then a wind came through and lifted the leaf and him to the surface. He was free of his dungeon but so was the leaf. And off it flew, that leaf, and with it the wind. And when the wind went away, he fell back into the well and shattered into a thousand pieces. And the moon passed over. And the rain fell. And he was so broken that he couldn’t feel the loneliness anymore. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. So he lay at the bottom of the well, broken and numb, with not so much as a tear. He was all out of tears. All out of hope. And with nothing left to do or feel, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

4 thoughts on “Broken

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