The Edge of the Shallow Green Sea

Part 1: Diyu

A narrow white strip cut across his face at 5:15 a.m. The harsh sun. A finger of light reached through a tear in the blinds. The weather could not have been less appropriate for what needed to be done.

Micah pushed himself up in bed and drooped forward. His eyes slowly adjusted to the grey half-light. He coughed and rubbed his eyes until they were fully open, and the room came into a slow and deliberate focus. He batted the string several times before he grasped it. The old, yellowed sheet of canvas rolled up to reveal the crumbling shantytown.

A mother hung her children's clothes out of a window to dry on a homemade wooden rack suspended by a rope. One floor down, an elderly woman was knitting and watching a young couple spill out onto the street below in mid-argument. They were oblivious to a delivery bike splashing through the muddy path until the young man pulled his exasperated lover out of its path to safety. They kissed, and the bike rang its bell. Even in the crowded chaos of Diyu city's tenements, one can find the tender hug of familiarity.

Micah's head drooped again. His shaggy grey hair fell across his face. He closed his eyes and allowed the fading memory of his dreams to linger. He had dreamed of another Micah in another place. He liked the idea of another version of himself somewhere. A better version, sitting at the foot of a bed with warmth in his heart. Saara would roll over and ask for some tea by nudging him with her foot. He would smile and squeeze it through the sheet. That Micah would be free of the burden he carried, and free from the pain of loss.

The thick and sweet smell of pancakes hit the back of his throat and drew him back into his old failing body. The aroma reminded him of happy, lazy Sundays. He opened his eyes as the heaviness settled on his stomach and rattled his nerves as if his veins had been plugged into the wall.

He dressed and went into the kitchen. Breakfast was on the tiny square table against the wall. He shook the tea tin and removed the lid. It was empty. He exchanged it for the coffee one and felt some granules rattle around. He made himself a cup of black coffee and cautiously regarded the pancakes as he sipped it. He could sense the thick fluffiness on his tongue just from memory. He walked over to the table and sat down; the sweetness was stronger now; he could almost taste them.

"The wind is picking up." His wife's voice, unchanged by time, played in the back of his mind like a familiar song. He looked up to the empty hallway.

"Radio says the weather will get worse before it gets better. Don't forget your coat today."

The moment seemed too familiar. Micah scratched his chin and tried to recall. He could only remember the sad look in her eyes. He stared at his pancakes while he tried to tease the memory to the surface, but it only became more distant.

"It's ok, Miki, eat your pancakes."

Miki was the dog's name, the one she had when they first met. A shaggy white Shih Tzu that was as loud as the night was long. She gave the name to him after it passed, perhaps to keep it alive. Micah hated the nickname, but he let her use it anyway. He picked up a fork and hesitated when he glimpsed the empty row of hooks on the wall.

"Where's my coat?"

He looked around the humble kitchenette. His hands started to tremble. He tried to control them with his breathing like the doctor had showed him. Slowly in through the nose, out through the mouth.

"I'm sorry love, breakfast smells delicious but I'm not myself today. I think I need some air."

He looked down at the table, there were no pancakes just the coffee he had made. He went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed and opened the top drawer of his bedside table. He took out his pills and a small, folded square of paper, he remembered the words he had written, and he tried to imagine what his daughter might think when she read them. What thoughts might run through her mind while its contents, the truest and deepest thoughts he had ever shared, spilt out into the world for the first time?