No Red Ink

Click... click... click click.... whirr...
I type away at the old computer. Days like these and computers like this one remind me of better times, where instead of writing I was living. "the sky rose with the ashes and the beautiful maiden was seen standing in the opalescent moonlight..." I imagined the smell of soot, how her hair would smell of lilac and rose, and her silver dress felt like the finest silk. I tap the keys a few times without typing before adding a period and logging off. I stand and grab my brief case before walking away. I tap my foot while examining some fiction books and grab "needful things by Stephen king" off the shelf. Ah, an extraordinary book for a man who had once wished to live an extraordinary life.
I walk down main street in my painfully ordinary clothes, to get an even more painfully ordinary haircut. I decide not to, I mean what's the point? My hairline is receding and there is no need for one, but... I have done this every 5th Tuesday... why stop a tradition now. I open the door and the bell rings in its familiar way. "aylo ther george hows the mornin treaten ya?" says Ralf's familiar voice. I smile and reply before taking a seat in my usual chair and selecting my usual magazine. I remember the first time I picked this magazine up and with the thought brings back a video of wonderous hope. A beautiful afternoon that was, I was fresh from Mexico where a war was being waged. I needed a simple trim and I had brought my lovely wife along with me, she was in a blue dress with an even bluer bonnet; she smelled of lilac and rose that day. We were walking down main street when we found this shop, just a mere shadow of what she'd become but I was dammed to give it a try instead of walking all the way downtown for a trim. The bell rang in a merry way when the door opened, and I held it for my love which mind you, earned me a pretty kiss on the cheek and I would do it again in a heartbeat. a young man with a name tag in the sloppiest handwriting I think I've ever seen greeted us with the most ridiculous voice, and it took me a hot second to realize he wasn't kidding. So, I took a seat determined to get my hair cut in this very place, and he did an amazing job. It smelled like shaving cream and gel, and he smelled like a cologne fresh out of France.
After my haircut I walk home. I notice how average everything is, that tree is dead, that car is grey, my brief case is an average brown and matches every other suitcase in sight. I have the same tie as at least 8 people who have passed me, and I think one of them was a woman. But as I get closer to town the more vivid things get. Kids in bright colors laughing as they throw slushy's, kids in dark clothing with piercings on every square inch of face, and kids in khakis playing touch football or some type of sport with colorful polos. Sitting on a bench by the fence I walk by, is a kid in grey clothes with a grey backpack and light brown hair; that's my son. He stands up and we walk side by side in silence, all the way home.
I sit down at my desk and finish the work that I didn't finish at my work because I had left early for "my wife's doctor's appointment". Shows you how well they know me, she's been dead for 3 years, but as far as they know she's perfectly fine. the image of her in a white silk dress as I twirl her across the night ridden earth rakes my mind savagely. She was beautiful that night. She had done a number to her hair, but she was more beautiful than ever. I had walked home after a long day in the office to find her sitting in the kitchen, my razor in her hand and a bald head; she had been losing hair for months before this. We didn't know what was wrong with her. I had walked over and helped her up, and then told her to be ready for a night she will never forget; and then I left. I came back at eleven that night in my finest suit and she was wearing the most beautiful silk white dress, I gave her a red rose. I took her to our spot, a place deep in the woods that was ravished with wild flowers and a small stream. We danced for hours and then had a candle lit dinner on the ground by the water. I still remember her eyes and how the fire glinted in them. I get dragged back into reality by the beep of my watch reminding me to get back to work, and so I do.
Simple dinner, a piece of chicken breast with nothing on it and a salad, with nothing on it. I place my wife's plate down in the usual place before sitting down next to it. I place my hand next to her cup and close my eyes. I then pick the cup and plate up putting them back into the cabinet and call my son down. Creed comes down and begins eating, I ask him how school is, he answers with the same answer as every other day "good", how was work "good". After dinner we walk into the living room to watch the 80's show reruns, just like every. Other. Night.