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Last Time I Saw HimI remember the last time I saw him. I didn't know it would be the last time, but somehow he did. He came up to me, where I was sitting, and just looked at me. It was more than a look really, but it wasn't a stare. It was words he couldn't say, and he seemed to think if he just looked at me that way long enough, I'd understand. He couldn't say "This is the last time I'll see you". I wish he could have. I would have done a few things differently. "What do you want?", I asked him, in that higher-pitch voice we reserve for small children and animals, patting him on the head. He looked at me like he wanted, so badly, for me to understand. I scratched his ear and patted his head, but that didn't appease him. "Why is he looking at me like this?", I asked the other person. "Want to go out?", the other person asked him.
The word 'out' (or was it 'walk'?), only diverted his attention for
a second. He glanced over his shoulder as if to say "Yes, in a minute",
then looked back at me. His eyes said, "I have to tell you this, I
have to ...", but I couldn't even guess. I was sure I would see
him next week, and the week after, and the week after that. "What is it?", I asked again, as though suddenly he would acquire the ability to speak. The other person there called his name. I think he believed it was making me nervous. In a way, I suppose it was. The other person knew him, had lived with him for a long time, and this behaviour seemed to make them nervous, so ofcourse it made me a bit uneasy. The other person called his name again, then repeatly. He got up, and went to them. I got up and left. That was the last time I saw him.
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© J.Simon