Emotions

64. Passing on: Loss

In one such town was a young man in a rumpled white garment, with a smudged and dirty face. He seemed to be laughing and muttering to himself as he stumbled drunkenly down the street, a jug of alcohol clutched in one hand, from which he occasionally took long swigs.

"River town, huh...?" he murmured. From the way he trudged along, he seemed completely despondent.

It was autumn, and a biting wind swept through the mountains, sending yellow leaves rustling along down the street. This particular town wasn't very heavily populated. It was located in a relatively remote area, and for the most part, the people in it kept to themselves. Because of how bitingly cold the wind was, the few people who did walk down the street all wore thick, warm clothing, and hurried to their destinations as quickly as they could.

Clearly, no one wanted to be out on the street on such a chilly evening. And anyone who did have to be out wanted to get back home as quickly as they could, to where it was warm, and to where their friends and families waited for them.

However, this drunk young man didn't seem to have any concept of home. He wandered in seemingly aimless fashion, a blank look in his eyes, completely ignoring the biting wind. He didn't seem to mind the wind at all, and in fact, it matched the loneliness in his heart. As he walked along through the evening, he seemed incredibly melancholy....
Brittle yellow leaves floated in the air around him, and they seemed to have found a kindred spirit in him that they didn't wish to leave.

"River town...? Who gives a shit...?"

The aroma of alcohol surrounded the young man as he staggered onward, lifting the jug up for another drink. However, at that point, he realized that the jug was empty. Cursing, he lifted it up and jiggled it a bit to get the final remaining drops out. After swallowing them, he smacked his lips.

As the amber light of evening shone in his listless eyes, it revealed the bitterness and loss contained deep inside.

"Out of booze again.... At least the alcohol in this place is good stuff." Ducking his head, he began to mutter incoherently as he stumbled off in the direction of the tavern he frequented, his only company the biting autumn wind.