The other side

 

Tobias never had a sense of belonging. When he was a child the other kids always made fun of him for being different and he carried that into the framework of his reality in this world. He could never shake the fact that he wasn't the right person for his own skin. 

On October 3rd, 2021 at 3:45 one beautiful fall afternoon, however, very little of what was the person named Tobias BlackElk remained as he lay a broken and mangled heap in the road.

The delivery truck that had hit him remained almost pristine, parked out of the way of traffic with its hazards on. Tobias had been mercifully covered with a drop cloth that the driver found in the back of his cargo hold and only the dusting of some brush and leaves competed with the muffled sounds of a distant police radio and delivery driver recounting the accident.

What was left of Tobias's consciousness drifted away towards the west.

His thoughts carried him past the heap covered in dusty drop cloth, and beyond the huddled men, distraught delivery driver, blurry masses and into the wind. He knew he was free of that ridiculous skin and bones that had always seemed to him, that it had belonged to someone else and somewhat contrived.

He was at peace.

The cigarette that he had defiantly lit while driving and the very reason why he veered off into the path of the truck in the first place, now rolled out from under his body as the EMTs lifted the stretcher and slowly walked what was left of him towards the back of the ambulance. The two police officers directed traffic by and advanced the remaining moments of what was left of Tobias's consciousness into the surrounding beige shadows.

He thought no more about himself. Tobias was glad to see it go until he remembered her face. 

Julia he thought, just another ridiculous goal he had set for himself that he would never attain. She had no idea that he had perished on the side of the road just moments after he left the cafe that she never met him at. Tobias wondered what if she had shown up, maybe they would still be there, talking about what seemed to him now, unimportant details that tie you to life and are illusory threads weaving you into the fabric of a network called reality. He wondered now why he was so fascinated with the one beautiful face that proved to be his death and he thought well obviously, death was the only thing he ever really wanted.