Lost

           The fragrance of dust drifted through the morning sun as the solemn man traced his fingers through the staleness of the grime. He knew the instruments that drew the line in the blanket of neglect would soon be cold. His last testament was a mere mark drawn on a disregarded desk top. Much of his life seemed like the apartment, left alone without care, life's debris settling and burying one in forgetfulness.

            His mother had often said dust was a sign of an unsettled mind. He believed he was quite settled in what he was doing. If he was unsettled it was in the fact on how could he live amongst thousands of souls and still experience loneliness. No one visited him and he cared little for having unwanted attention. He was a citified hermit.

            The morning sun warmed the dark wood of the musty floor as he opened the window near the single living thing that he cared for. His fingers caressed over the smooth green leaves with delicate care. The plant wavered in the cool breeze as if responding to his attention. He liked caring for something that remained quiet yet responded to his care. A little water and sun and it showed all the appreciation he needed by staying alive. It was the one thing in the apartment that was not layered with dust and clutter. His sole attention remained on the plant - the sun bathing it in warmth.

            He glanced down along the boulevard from his window. This was as close as he got to interacting with others - a silent watcher from high above - casting a cold eye down with envy at all their interactions. How easy it seemed for them to talk and laugh - carrying on with others. He marveled at the ease in which they moved along the street with confidence. What really happened behind those masks? Was there true feeling behind those smiles or were they like him - orchestrating a play of muscle and grinning in response. He knew with certainty there were thoughts and feelings that did not surface in those gleeful facades - letting others see what was expected. He was done with such things. It had all become too tedious and tiresome. He was punching the clock and moving on.           

            He left the window open for his little green companion. Tending to it was his simplest joy and his one regret was that he would not see the little one grow. He watched its leaves sway in the breeze, waving good bye perhaps.

            He set a chair near the window to reach the large steel beam running through his loft high above. It took several swings to get the rope to cast over the massive support. But he managed to tie the knot and form a crude noose at the bottom. The rope was course and stiff. He wanted to know he had something strong enough to get the job done. There was no hesitation or regret. He was at peace with his final act, no action he had taken in life had ever meant anything to anyone and this wouldn't either.

            The chair rocked unsteadily as he readied himself and reached for the noose. The rigid rope scratched over his head as he managed it. He steadied himself and closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled deeply. He thought of all those that went before him. Perhaps he might see them again after the tough business of dying was complete. When his body grew cold and piss ran down his leg he may be embracing those that meant something to him. It felt like so long ago that he had anyone like that in his life. Why else would he be leaving in such a way if it were otherwise.

            He rocked the chair to gain momentum and felt it fall away. As he was suspended by the neck he was surprised how much he suddenly struggled for life. His last image was of his little plant being kicked off its ledge from its sunny window. One second it was sitting happily on its perch, freshly watered enjoying the sun and the next it was gone -  then he was as well.