The Grave Of Jordan Cassidy

Jordan sat there on the brown desert rock, his stomach empty and his mouth as dry as the hot air. He gave up a long time ago of trying to spit the specks of sand that found their way into his mouth, for lack of saliva and patience.

Jordan was tired, so unbelievably tired. He had been walking now for months on end. His legs could no longer carry him, and his arms lay motionless folded and resting upon his knees. He had no companion and his rations had ran out several days ago. He even ran out of Marlboros. He was done. Jordan had failed to find his wife, and his best friend was dead. He moved slightly from the rock and lay down on the desert floor, on what he believed to now be his grave.

He tried to find a reason to get up. He tried to find a way to tell his muscles to move. There was no use. There was no hope that he would make it out of this one, he was fucked.

Laura. He had to find Laura. His wife was probably out there still alive, looking for him. Alone and scared. He had to find her. He had to, even if it's the last thing he does, especially if it's the last thing he does. Nothing could stop him from being there for her.

His legs did all the work, they picked him up and walked him. It was tough but he needed to be there for laura. Jordan's mind was set. He was going to find his wife. His legs continued to carry him in the harsh dry winds. His mouth was dry and he was starved but his legs kept moving. His dog was dead and possibly his wife too but his legs would not stop. They kept going and going and the desert air kept pushing him back, but they still were moving and he still needed to find his wife.

With one large gust of sand filled hot air his legs had given out. Jordan collapsed. His face pressed against the smooth sand and his lungs had filled with the grainy sand and all encompassing him was the infinite sand and he lay there. His arms outstretched and his legs motionless, no longer carrying him to his beautiful Laura. Laura. Fucking Laura and her fucking being so out of his grasp. He hated her for being so far away from him and he hated his damn dog for being dead and he hated himself for being so damn weak. He especially hated himself. He was too weak, he didn't deserve Laura and he didn't deserve his best-friend. He didn't deserve water and he didn't fucking deserve a damn smoke right now.

He closed his eyes and tried to force his lungs to stop pulling in new mixture of sand and air. Fuck. He was even too weak for even that.

Jordan lay in the sand and let the wind bury him in new layers of desert. He could see his wife now, laying beside him, holding his hand and kissing his forehead. She was talking but he didn't listen. He focused on her golden voice, letting the voice of the beautiful woman whom he loved coax him into a deep sleep. A deep sleep in which he dreamt of his wife and his best friend. He dreamt of kissing Laura and playing with her. He dreamt of laying there in his bed, next to Laura, holding her, listening to her tell him about how in love with him she was. She kissed him once more. He dreamt of his life with Laura before the world got so fucked up. He was happy. Damnit he was happy. Jordan dreamt of his wife's voice and and of her love for him. Jordan lay there in the desert, his body without movement, oxygen had left him and now all that remained in his lungs was the damn sand. His heart was still, no longer forcing him to walk so damn far. No longer broken and alone, now simply still. Jordan never woke up, laying there forever in the infinite desert. In his infinite and lonely grave of hot sand-infused air.