Eleven Euros

Eleven Euros

As he sat on the sidewalk and counted the money, he sighed. Eleven Euros. That was all he had to show for the day. Eleven euros would get him to Rotterdam, but not much farther if he wanted to eat. He watched as people walked by him, some tall, some short. He saw them carry on with their lives, not even sparing him a glance much less some change. Humanity can be so cruel sometimes. With a deep breath and one more look around to see if there were any more possibilities for some extra money and stood up. His bones creaked and cracked, his muscles groaned. He was lucky to live this long, having the provisions that he did. Every day he thanked God for everything he had, and even some things he had had but were gone now. He was a grateful old man with a sparkle in his eye but that didn't get him very far. It got him eleven euros to be exact. He made his way slowly to the train station, enjoying every moment as he lived it. He could see the pigeons begging for food much like he had been begging for money earlier. He saw the contrast in colors from the green grass to the brightly colored ancient buildings. He could see the wind rustling through everybody's things, blowing hair around and bringing chaos. He could smell it in the wind. That's why he had to get out of here. Go somewhere else, find someone new to occupy his mind, other than his late wife.

He adored her, April. Her laugh could light up a room brighter than the sunshine she so often reminded him of. Everything about her was bright, from her clothing to her personality. Even her hair was bright yellow. Her eyes were the only thing that weren't. They were blue, but not bright blue. Not the sky on a beautiful day, blue. But they were blue like the sea right before a storm when you can feel it's danger, it's anger towards something. They were the calm before the storm, blue. They were the dangers of the night, the sadness of death. They drew you in, much like the mythical sirens in the Odyssey. They drew you in before you could realize it, and then it was too late. They drew him in, he was fascinated by how a person could have such contrast. They say the eyes are a gateway to the soul but if this is true, no one would believe it when they looked at April. He pulled himself out of his reverie and bought his train ticket. The machine beeped at him. Just like everyone else in the world it was programmed to believe time is money. But he knew that wasn't true. Twelve hours was only eleven euros and he also knew that the memories he had were timeless, and they were still worth something. He got on his train and took a seat. He sat by the window to watch the world pass by. He fingered the change in his pocket. Four euros left. He didn't know what he would do once he got to this new city but he hoped he could maybe find another job.

He sat by the door, waiting for April to come home. Waiting to hear the car pull into the driveway, to hear her laugh as their basset hound came out to greet her, to hear the doorbell ring and most of all waiting to see her face, smiling and beautiful as he pulled open the door. That never happened. Instead, he waited and waited and waited. He never heard anything, never saw anything. He just waited. He barely ate and barely slept for two months. He didn't go to work, no one visited and if they did he simply ignored them. Then the phone call came. That's when everything he had waited for started to crash down around him. He would never again get to see her get into their bright blue buggy and go to work, singing the whole way. He would never get to feel her hair, never get to braid it for her before she cleaned the house. Never get to hear her say, "Never say never" although this time he knew there was never going to be another time.

The train whistle jolted him out of his memory, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He knew then that these eleven euros wouldn't be the ones that helped him leave his memories behind. That maybe there would never be anything to help him. He decided then that he would ride the train all the way around. maybe he could find another person to fill the deep, dark, aching hole that was somewhere near his sternum. Or maybe he would never find someone, he will just have to ride and see where these eleven euros would take him.