The day had been rough. Why? He didn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. The bench beneath him was his only link to this world, and even that felt almost surreal. Maybe he was sitting at the park, maybe he wasn’t. All he could see was darkness now. Dusk had engulfed everything else. It was deep into the night, but with no stars in the sky. No moon either, just darkness.
He had to be dead. It was only natural. He thought he would be used to the feeling by now. He had died many times before. With every un-fulfilled wish, with every good deed he didn’t do, with every non-returned smile, he had died.
Dark as it was, the place wasn’t scary, just lonely. Ah, but then again, loneliness was scary. Would he stay like that forever? Just sitting there, dead and alone?
Ages passed before he felt something again. A presence to his right. Someone sat beside him. She was at arm’s reach, so he reached—his body slow and heavy, numbed by the cold dew that had settled upon him during the long, long night.
She was still warm to the touch, but he knew better than anyone else that she was at risk of losing her warmth. He pulled her in. Not with his arm, hand barely touching her shoulder, but with his soul. He had to pull her into the real world even if it meant he had to go back too. He was saving her. He was saving himself.
It was almost dawn and they were still sitting on the bench. The night had once again covered them in a delicate layer of dew, but those cool droplets felt and looked just how they were supposed to: soft and fresh and reflecting the light of the imminent sunrise.
They were back.
Since I had already mixed in dew in my last freewrite I felt like I should bring a similar note for today's prompt. It ended up being... weird. But I like it anyway.
PD: No matter how many of these freewrites I do, I still dread my fight against the clock and still LOVE the outcome. Every time.