And He Cried, and He Weeped

...like a woman does when two men in uniforms walk slowly up her porch, bearing news of her husband's, boyfriend's, son's death. He was no different, standing before the tombstone of deceased love. It was not a funeral, that had been years ago, or so he imagined. 1983 - 1995 where bold characters, engraved in the granite. Eleven when he was taken from the world, but it wasn't true. Floyd had known him and dated him and loved him for two years, when he was twenty-four. He saw him, kissed him, loved him yesterday. He was not murdered thirteen years ago; he was murdered yesterday. And Floyd saw it, he even saw it happen. He saw it just before it happened, but when the head of the eleven year old version of himself was dunked into the pool, drowned, he vanished next to him, and Floyd wailed and cried out for him, but his only option was to bang on the cage that held him. Steven, in a moment of immense empathy, grabbed Floyd into himself, trying to calm him, while Daniel worked on sending them back to the present.

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I wanted to write something this morning. And the only thing that came to my head was a scene from a movie I was dreaming up called Protect your Past. It was one of the most touching scenes I had thought up, at least for me, and I wanted to write it out.

As always, comments / critiques are encouraged.

Aaron; Two buttons and a zip.