Short Stories

She walks

She was walking up and down through the empty hallway of the almost empty hospital. A little faster steps, but sometimes she would slow down because she would start breathing too fast, simply running out of breath. 

I can see on her wildly rising chest that she is breathing too hard and I know that she was tired of walking. But still, she wouldn't sit down. From time to time she would wipe the hands off the pants, to ease the nervousness. And then she would pick up one hand and wipe the sweat from her forehead.

Usually, she walks with head held  high. Her shoulders were straight. Foot in front of foot. She would always have earphones that were connected to the phone that was sitting safely in her pocket. And she walks.

 Every day same steps. 

Every day same posture. 

 Her steps were sure and with her steps she would show off her enthusiasm. Yes, her enthusiasm.

Her enthusiasm would affect the others. She could always transfer her admiration to others. She would show her thrill in little, meaningless things. But when she talks about it she has this passion that would rub off to you, even if she was talking about a little purple flower. Even though it would be meaningless she would take you with her. Just how she took me with her. After all tis time I still know why I am always in her company.

She guessed my favorite color in first try. But, between me and you, I didn't even have a favorite color until she shouted, so excited so – enthusiastically – 'GREEN!' She had a big grin on her face and her eyes were sparkling like stars so I told her that she is right. And 'green' was never the same again. 'Green' is now in everything.

And I can still remember her walk after that little conversation. Again she was, like a little child, walking but slightly skipping. She was thrilled with everything around her. 

Enthusiasm. That's it. 

She is the person who would, even if the day was the worst in her life, find something to be amazed with. 

When she would stop walking, when she was waiting to cross the road or waiting for a green light, her pose was the same. Head held high, shoulders straight. And when she was standing like that you knew her next steps would be sure. Just like her actions were also sure. She would jump in a new adventure like a fly without a head. But she would be sure.

She is still walking up and down that  empty hospital hallway and my eyes are following her moves. Even though she is waiting the results that range from bad to worse, her head is still up high. Shoulders straight. Like she was walking in the streets.

She was scared with the sounds of door so she stopped for a second. The nurse was reading off her carton. Her head was still heads although the nurse was shorter than her. Her hand were calm beside her body but I could see her palms slightly shaking. Her feet were surely planted on the ground.

And then we walked together in silence down the street.

Head isn't held high.
Shoulders aren't straight.
Steps weren't sure.

Her head was safely facing down, watching the empty ground she was walking on. Every other step her feet would tangle. She was aware that she could walk anymore. She couldn't do what she was best at so she decided to sit down on a first park bench that came into her sight. We sat like that in silence. I don't know how long. Hours, minutes and seconds were passing by.

And then she picked up her head and turned to me. 

 She said "Look, that tree that has green leaves but it's already fall. I think that that tree is the only tree that has green leaves now, while everything else is yellow."

Few minutes after that, she stood up and I stood up with her. And she walked. The way only she could. The way only she knew.