Cigarettes And A Typewriter (ON HOLD).

Prologue

~Alice

I've been told that time was like a horrible dad joke, since there was no humor in time, and hard to understand. The person explained how in life there was obstacles that could you spend a lot time on, however, the obstacles could be down in seconds, minutes, or hours. As an example, the person used high school and talked about how it took them four years to graduate, but the ceremony was merely two hours long.

    But that's not how I viewed it...

Time was not a horrible dad joke for me. It is horrible, so I'll give it that, but unless you're into dark humor then I guess time is a joke for you.

Time is a glass door. Hard to see, but it's there.

I've looked through that door with my Grandpa Nate, who walked through the years with bumps and cracks until he was 72. Yet, it took four hours for him to die in a gray hospital room. A sob tried to crawl out of my throat like a tarantula resurfacing out of its hole.

A feeling of little pins started to spread through my body. First to my heart then my stomach, which made me feel like I was about to throw up. The anchor tied to my heart sank to my stomach as my hands started to shake a little, and I tried to calm down. But, how can I when everyone is crying hysterically?

A warm hand took hold of my shaky left one, which made my green eyes meet his brown ones. Those eyes still have the same impact on me like three years ago, but even before those three years. It's when I first stepped up to that wooden table in that old library. His eyes reminded me of a fall brown leaf being shined on by the sun. Fixed at his gaze, I let the tarantula sob out and tears sprinkled my pink cheeks. I wrapped my arms around his chest, as I gripped onto the back of his old black leather jacket. He held me tightly as if I'll disappear again, and brought me closer to him.

The pain I felt was gone when I was in his arms, but maybe it was because I went numb. The noises from the background goes down like a radio being turned off, but I could only hear his voice.

Which said, "I'm here, Alice."

***One Week Later***

"Will you be fine on your own?" mom asked while pulling away from our hug, I nodded with a sad smile and gave her a kiss on her cheek. I felt my heart beat fast as my mom and I part ways, as if my heart was some sort of a timer to a bomb. I started to walk over to my grandpas's grave with a firm grip on the folded piece of paper in my hands. The wind picked up just as I walked up to his casket and it caused my black dress to dance in the cool wind, along with my chestnut brown hair.

A tug at my heart makes me think of the cool wind in North Wildwood, and I was with my grandpa. We would eat more candy as my parents and siblings play in the water, but Grandpa and I stayed on the sand to make little stories, and try to count each speck of sand.

A warm tear drop brings me out of my state, and I realize I was crying when I felt wetness on the paper, "I'm sorry, Grandpa Nate," I said, chuckling a little, "In your honor, I'm writing a story about you and grandma. This is the first chapter and I want you to have it!"

I lowered myself to the ground and toss the paper on the casket. "I love you, and I'm gonna miss you so much!" I whispered and turned back to him.

"Come on, let's go home." He smiled, and I shared one too on my lips. Placing his arm around me, we walked back to my car and each step away from my grandpa stings my heart like a hornet would to a human. Why does pain have to be different for ever circumstances?