1.A Blind Man Can't Cry

The crying was insufferable. 

Unbearable.

Intolerable.

He spun his wedding band round and round his finger, taking it off to place it on the table just to suddenly put it back on again, missing the feeling of the cold steel.

And still they cried.  

And cried.

It seemed like years but it had only been a few days. 

He remembered very little. Her hand squeezing his. The light going out of her eyes. Then the crying. The crying in the hospital. The funeral. The home. Was it home? Without her everything seemed so gray. Then again, how could a blind man see anything?

But their crying was an angry red that darted across his blind vision, its pointed tip nestling itself deep inside that sensitive nerve in the brain.

He tried to cover his ears, but then he only heard his crying, but no tears flowed. He got up. He had to do something to make it stop. He stood over them, peering down, but the scrunched eyes wouldn’t meet the empty sockets.

“You cry. All you do is cry. You were given the gift of life and still you cry! Ungrateful, insufferable, BRATS!” He kicked a cradle and watched it as it rocked wildly, bringing the crying to a shriek that could make ears bleed. He regretted his decision. Not to kick the cradle, but to have them. 

The cries, screams now- were too much for him. They weren’t three individual screams; they seemed to morph into one, like a woman in pain. A woman dying.

He marched out onto the porch. It was winter. A white snowy blanket covered the fenced yard. Beyond the fence was a wood, and beyond the wood was a stream. It’d been cold for a long time, it’d be cold for a long time after too.

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