Newton's Law

Edward Newton sat in the coffee shop with his day old newspaper. He watched curiously as a young lady ordered a five-dollar coffee that sounded too complicated to be good. A teenager spoke into a phone rather than talking with the friends beside him. A middle aged woman sat near the window and watched the light rain paint an ever changing mosaic on a glass canvas.

He was from another time, another place. Edward had outlived everyone he ever knew. Boyhood friends, the one love of his life, his co-workers and his relatives. They were all gone. Long gone. For Edward Newton was one hundred and thirty seven years old.

The lone son of a druggist in London had seen the century turn - twice. His father had once been fascinated with finding a miracle drug that would reverse aging. Armed only with nineteenth-century medical knowledge, Thomas Newton had concocted formula after formula with no apparent luck. He died a broken man when his son was just seventeen. Edward had a distant relationship with his father which was normal given the time in which they lived, but had kept his father’s things as a link to the man he hardly known. Feeling poorly when he turned sixty, Edward turned to his father’s work. Through trial and error he finally found an elixir that took away his aches and made him feel years younger. Edward was saddened that his father would never know that he had been on the edge of his dream. Kings and Sultans had sought such a cure since the very beginning of time.

Edward Newton was proof that such a cure was no cure at all. In today’s terms he had seen it all – births, deaths, love, hate, poverty, crime, celebration and defeat. He had too often seen peace turn to war and then back again. Edward had watched the inevitable march of man’s progress – from horses to cars to planes. He had seen all that life has to offer.

Tradition wisdom would dictate that Edward Newton was a lucky man. He would disagree for despite all that he had seen and all that the world had to offer, Edward Newton was utterly alone.

It's Cold Inside

I stood under the corner of the frayed awning as the rain tumbled down. Water had pooled near my right foot, and a small rivulet meandered aimlessly away from it. It was as directionless as I was. Minutes earlier she had told me she was in love with someone else. It was difficult to tell if she were truly upset, despite the minor theatrics. She likely was, at least to some degree. We had been together for four years. The spark that had drawn us together had long since been extinguished. Perhaps I should have seen it coming, but I did not. Maybe that was how little effort I had been putting into the relationship. In any event, I harbored no ill will toward her.

As a younger man I would have been overcome with envy. Her teary announcement would have triggered a fierce competition to win her heart. I was beyond that stage in my life, which is perhaps more the pity. Was it that I was empty inside, or simply that I took a more practical view of life? Was there a difference?

I was at a crossroad, where I had stood a number of times before. Despite feelings of uncertainty, and lingering feelings for her, I felt no sense of burden.

My years on earth had been sufficient to insulate me from her rejection, and yet were still few enough that I had many more to look forward to. While I had no sense of what the future might hold, I was somehow excited by that uncertainty. Perhaps someone else would rekindle the fire within.

With that, I flicked my cigarette into the water, just to see the ripples. I buttoned my jacket and started the walk into my future. I did stop, however, to glance up at her apartment and to wish her a silent goodbye.