Hail
A scribble for the word challenge ‘hail’
By Gumnut
14 Jul 2004

He could see it coming, falling, the sun catching the dancing filaments and fragmenting the light spectrum.

It was symbolic really. A shower of factors affecting his existence. A representation of all the changes that were now to be forced upon him.

No, that was incorrect. He wasn’t forced. That implied he was reluctant. He wasn’t.

Just a little scared.

Of course, he was happy for Michael. If Michael was happy, so was he. It was the focus of his existence. But that was where the core of the problem lay.

Michael was his focus.

And Michael was leaving.

Or so he told him. He had said the words, but he hadn’t actually made a move yet. The fact that Kitt was where he was at this very moment spoke volumes, and he simply couldn’t see himself anywhere else.

Perhaps it was he who hadn’t left, following his friend around like a lost soul.

Because that was what he was.

Lost.

It frightened him.

He couldn’t speak to Michael about it. His driver was at the centre of his uncertainties. And Michael deserved his happiness, unfettered by frivolous concerns.

Memories sparked across circuits. Pain. Terror. Michael tossed aside like a discarded rag, his life ebbing away.

Yes, he deserved his happiness, had earned it beyond recompense.

Even if it was at the sacrifice of Kitt’s own.

He stared at the people standing around him, all their merriment contrasting dramatically with his own mood.

He felt so alone.

The hail of coloured wedding confetti rained down on him, the brilliantly coloured particles slipping across his shell and scattering to the grass below.

And for some reason his dreams went with them.

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FIN.