Orange

The full span of a life

On a particular morning in the countryside, one could see the sun as its early rays soaked the flavorless sheets of sky with an oozing blue goo. In acrylic layers, this goo slowly painted over the stiffened stale moon until it was no longer visible in the gallery of the sky. The thin white speckles also lost their scent to the vibrant blue hues. In the urban city, a young mother, Julie, was holding the hands of a much miniscule man. He had big glass eyes and a few rare hairs protruding through his head. He was lying in his crib, rolls of flat spilling from his short limbs. An unidentifiable crooked line was his mouth, slightly open as he pressed his bare gums against each other. Julie walked out of the room and the little man kicked his feet at the synthetically white bars of the wooden crib. He tried to push himself to stand, but even if he did, the top was too high to reach.

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Her pale slender hands tugged nervously at her skirt. He struck a glance at the preoccupied waiter juggling trays of water. He ran his fingers through his thick, oiled hair, straightened his collar, took a quick gulp of sparkling water, tapped his foot against the leg of the table, pulled on his collar, and ran his fingers through his hair. She sat silently. A crumbling piece of lemon bread sat dimly lit on the table; an ear missing, causing it to slightly tilt to one side. It was lying in its own crumbs, peeling away and flaking from its very skin. Beneath, as the gash revealed, was a plump spongy sweetness, softer than the silky wings of a thousand butterflies. It stood exposed to the all-drying air. He pinched off a small mound to nibble at. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

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As he reached over the stand the beer bottle caught in the winds of his shaky hand and tipped over and onto the carpet where it made a quick clank against the previous one and spilled across the floor. The old man did not bother to stand or take any initiative. He merely shook his head back, wiggling his neck length burnt-orange hair into form. Below, the contents of the bottle made their ultimate escape. The dark liquid made its way through the fine hairs of the carpet while some foam stood afloat. He reached over once more, this time for his thick round glasses, which promptly slipped from his grasp and landed on the floor. "Goddamn." He exclaimed sharply before he made an inaudible mutter. For the third time he reached towards the stand, this time gripping a small radio tightly and bringing it to his lap safely. Without his glasses, finding a station would be a task done entirely by ear. His quivering hands brought the radio to his ear where he began slowly turning one of the knobs. Buzz. Buzz. A sharp buzzing sound was produced by the radio. He continued adjusting the knob until an even louder noise began scrambling. He was turning it more and more with lousy success. Buzz. Buzzz. Buzz. BUZZ. BUZZ. Buzz. No frequency could be found. Buzz. The only sound that would be heard was that of the ocean. Buzz. Restless waves crashed against each other. Fizzzz. The froth foamed on the floor. Buzz. There was nothing to be found, only the buzz of the radio and the fizzing on the floor.

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"We can't stay here forever." Croaked the aged figure bent in the doorway. His skin was the color of flour and what remained of his hair hung down pathetically in strands of a powdered white on his wrinkled forehead. He slowly made his way from the doorway to the small table in his parlor. On it, a beautiful gold cage stood. In it was an even more beautiful Blue Jay. He lifted the cage and brought it out onto the balcony. He looked out onto the ocean as the midday breeze blew onto his face. "I'm going soon. That's for sure," he continued. "No soul can stay forever." Out above the sun was slowly setting. The man's day was coming to an end. "I can't leave you shelled up forever either," he said, undoing the gold latching of the cage. He slowly reached for the soft bird and cupped it in his hands. He brought it up to his face and said, "You have to go first. If I go, then you will have to stay. When I let you go, fly out magnificently and head straight into the clouds. Take flight and go off, above the sun, above the world, and wait for me." He released the bird. But the Blue Jay did not fly magnificently. Something about its left wing made it impossible for it to fly straight. It did fly, but every few seconds the left wing would stutter, falter, causing the bird to slightly dip. The gulls in the distance flew high, aiming at the sun, shooting across the sky. But the little Blue Jay only flew a clumsy crippled flight. In awkward motions it slowly sailed underneath the sun until it disappeared and was no longer in sight.