Jake

Inside a room, someone is lying down without moving. That figure, surrounded by only a few pieces of furniture, seems incredibly lonely. Times passes and light seems to drift towards that lonely figure. His eyes which were tightly shut a minute ago, quickly snap open. Welcoming him is a hazy but empty world.

Quite groggy from sleep, he waits until his vision clears. He lays there dazed for a few seconds but quickly remembering something, his head snaps to the side.

He is looking in the direction of that familiar spot, more specifically, Max’s spot as if looking for something- or maybe someone. His expectations though we’re meant to be met by disappointment, for he is not there anymore- Max is gone. There is no more Max and Jake in this world. Only Jake.

Realizing this fact, Jake takes in a long deep breath- more of a sigh- appearing like he’s exhausted and sick of his continuous disappointments. Squeezing his eyes closed, he hopes to slip into the darkness of a nap, wanting to temporarily mask his deep sorrows.

For fifteen years, they were inseparable – Max and him. Always side by side. The walks on the beach. The hikes. The ride to the grocery store. On many simple days or even special nights, they were always together.

But all of that is now just part of the past; just a piece of memory, for Max, is gone. He left. Jake knew that he should be thankful for just having their time together- and that the sickness took Max quickly rather than dragging out the pain. But still, he feels somewhat cheated.

Unable to sleep, Jake looks around the all too empty room, then letting his gaze fall upon the leash. It seems to wait patiently, ever ready for the next big adventure.

Seeing that leash, which has always accompanied Max and him, now dusty and abandoned strikes him to the core. He realized for the first time how much his grief weighs. How hard it is to even rise with such heaviness inside.

It is then he hears a shuffle from behind and turns to see Martha standing in the doorway, her shoulder resting against the frame.

“I thought you might be here,” she says. She looks down on him for only a moment before her stares drift to the couch. “I miss him too, Jake. More than you’ll ever know.”

There’s a faraway melancholy tone to her voice, but he knows that her heart, like his, has a hole too big to fill.

His head drops, and he gives off another long sigh, which prompts her to come over and kneel over and kneel onto the carpet beside him.

She slides a hand under his chin and lifts it, then tucks back his long, floppy ears, such that their teary eyes can meet

“I guess you do know, Jake.”