Life is a hell of a thing to happen to a person. [ Arrival / OTA ]
Melancholy was an infrequent state of mind for David Rossi. He saw so many horrible things in this world, evil and darkness. There was light and hope and love, too, which were things he never stopped believing in, even if he didn't always expect a good outcome. He'd often been troubled by what he saw, disturbed, saddened, haunted, and he'd certainly lost untold hours of sleep through the years, whether it was due to a case, or nightmares related to ones. But he didn't often reside in a state of melancholy or depression for very long. Emily's "death" months ago had been the first time in a long while he'd felt sad for a persistent length of time. When he'd later come to suspect she might not actually be dead, though, that had assuaged those feelings rather well.
He didn't expect to be feeling anything similar again, at least not in the same year. But Carolyn had died in his arms, and though he wasn't the type to mope or wallow in his grief, the sadness would linger for a while, he knew. Time would dull the intensity of that grief, but it had only been two days, and he was still in that limbo of not wanting to completely let go, and needing to.
When he left the cemetery around noon, he had no clear idea about where he was going, he only knew that he didn't want to go home immediately. Despite his general mood, it was a beautiful day, and the sunshine managed to elicit the barest hints of peace from him. He'd only intended to walk for a few minutes, but that quickly turned into half an hour.
A cup of coffee sounded nice right now, and he knew just the place.
The only problem was that when he turned the corner onto the street where the coffee shop should have been, all that awaited him was something entirely unfamiliar. Cobblestone streets?
Had he slept that badly last night? Was this all a hallucination?
He didn't expect to be feeling anything similar again, at least not in the same year. But Carolyn had died in his arms, and though he wasn't the type to mope or wallow in his grief, the sadness would linger for a while, he knew. Time would dull the intensity of that grief, but it had only been two days, and he was still in that limbo of not wanting to completely let go, and needing to.
When he left the cemetery around noon, he had no clear idea about where he was going, he only knew that he didn't want to go home immediately. Despite his general mood, it was a beautiful day, and the sunshine managed to elicit the barest hints of peace from him. He'd only intended to walk for a few minutes, but that quickly turned into half an hour.
A cup of coffee sounded nice right now, and he knew just the place.
The only problem was that when he turned the corner onto the street where the coffee shop should have been, all that awaited him was something entirely unfamiliar. Cobblestone streets?
Had he slept that badly last night? Was this all a hallucination?