The Myth Of Life

Ch.18: Broken Pieces, New Puzzles

It was raining heavily. I sat down on my sofa with a cup of hot chocolate (duh) and phone in my hand. I hardly had any friends in real life, and hadn't made much headway in virtual life either, mostly because I wasn't interested. Still, a man gets bored eventually. And here I was. So I scrolled through random posts on Instagram only to discover this new thing called 'memes' that Mike had been telling me about a couple of months back. They were pretty creative; I liked them. But I'm guessing they were trending because of how relatable they were in people's lives. Although the expression of the man on the memes could also be a reason for people to like them.

I sighed.

I was so lost in time. I threw my phone next to me on the sofa and rubbed my eyes. I've always wondered what the weird coloured circles I see when I rub my eyes actually are. I opened my eyes. A black-covered thing in front of me across the room caught my attention. I didn't hesitate to walk over to it and remove the cover.

My beauty.

My first love.

My life.

My guitar. 

I picked it up and immediately was mind-flooded with a million pieces of broken dreams that made its way to my heart and hugged my soul with nostalgia.

In the next few hours I couldn't think of anything but the sound that the vibrating strings produced under my fingertips. The feel of each note emphasizing its own importance as I plucked the strings. The movement of my fingers from the thickest to the thinnest strings. The songs Dad had taught me. The family times we had together. The proud look my mom gave me every time I finished a song as though I were some guitar prodigy waiting to receive my award. Baby Eric crawling towards me to touch the mysterious music thing and play it for himself. My Dad confidently closing his eyes and singing romantic songs, opening his eyes just to catch a glimpse of admiration in my mom's eyes.

Ding-Dong.

I snapped out of my memory trip at the sound of the doorbell. I set my guitar back on its stand and opened the door to reveal...

"Mike?"

He was all drenched and......crying?

He fell forward into my shoulders, bawling.

"Dude I left her. Zoe...She, she doesn't love me anymore."

"Shhhh..." I calmed him. "It's ok. Come on in. Sit down. It's cold outside. Let me get you a towel."

He sat on the sofa while I went to get him a towel. I used the opportunity to think over what happened. Was I the reason they broke up? Was I to be blamed for the tears pouring down his eyes? I shook the thought away as I approached him and gave him the towel. He was shivering. From the crying or the cold I couldn't tell. He dried his hair and then wrapped the towel around him. I gave him a cup of the extra hot chocolate (duh) I had stored in a thermos flask. He grabbed it to warm his hands. I went over to my bedroom, and noticed the newspaper article of Rachel's death on my bed. That's when I remembered the reason I took out the article in the first place. It was Rachel's second death anniversary.

Note to self: Get article back into top-secret hiding place ASAP.

I grabbed some of my (yes, don't worry, washed) dry clothes for him to change into.

"Dude you might wanna change...those clothes look really wet and you don't wanna be falling sick, right?"

He looked up at me from his cup of hot chocolate.

"Umm...yeah. That would be...n..nice I g..guess." He stuttered.

I handed him the clothes and he went in to change. I sat down on the sofa and rubbed my eyes.
Same day, same place, same action. Good job, Evan!!

I picked up my phone from the sofa. I had to do something to cheer this guy up and I had the best idea in my mind.

I dialed a number.

"Hi, is this Marge's? I'd like to make a reservation for two."

**So yes, Marge's is an imaginary place I made up. Bear with me for my horrible choice of name. Speaking of name, I'm planning to change the name of my book to 'The Enigma Of Life'. What do you think? Should I? Feel free to let me know here :)***