His Swan Song

Chapter 2

My Swan Song:
-Have coffee at a cafe
-Sit and dine at a restaurant
-Drink a beer at a tavern
-Visit a bakery
-Buy a ticket and watch an opera or symphony performance

The list got progressively more difficult as he went on. As he continued, he found himself crying, knowing that it was too late for some of these things.

-Rewrite all of my lost music and publish it
-Fall in love
-Kiss a woman
-Spend the night with a woman

And as he continued further, some of the items became things that he wished he had done in his lifetime.

-Be a husband
-Be a father
-Rescue people like me from their fate

He couldn't write anymore as he couldn't see through his tears, but he decided that after a good night's rest, he would begin conquering his list tomorrow. 

He grabbed his blanket and pillow from the coffin where he usually slept and went to the swan bed. It didn't seem right to sleep in a coffin anymore when he was so close to death. As he laid down in the bed, he felt comfortable. It was then he decided that he would treat himself like a human in these last months of his life. 

The next morning, he woke, cleaned himself up, dressed in a fresh suit, and stared at his marred flesh in the mirror. Quite the conundrum he had. If he wore the mask, he would look like a freak. If he didn't wear the mask, he would surely frighten people. He tried to think through the problem. An idea suddenly came to him. He imagined there was still stage makeup left in one of the dressing rooms of the opera house. Would it be possible to powder his red skin? With a little makeup, his wig, and maybe a fedora pulled down slightly on that side, could he almost look normal?

The excitement of this possibility gave him a sudden wave of energy and he began moving quickly toward the surface. Just as he had imagined, there was plenty of makeup in Carlotta's old dressing room. He sat down in front of a dusty old mirror and plunged a brush into the makeup. Slowly and carefully, he began to put the powder onto his face. His skin looked very pale, however, it looked somewhat normal. Considering he was a sick man, the paleness of his entire face seemed fitting. 

When he was finished, he sat back and looked at himself. He nearly began to laugh at himself. All these years, he had tortured himself so. Now, he looked in the mirror and he saw a man. He was not a handsome fellow by any stretch of the imagination, but he looked like a man who could exist in society.

He slid the fedora onto his head and pulled one side of it down a little further. With that, he ventured out into the light of day.