Just A Little More

Dreams are a window to peep at the labyrinth of suffering, regrets, hope, and yearning hiding under the disguise of human form. With each passing day, the weight of it all gets heavier and heavier until you have reached your capacity. Some are heavy lifters while others falter halfway through, and some even at the beginning. Her gaze slowly fell on the worn, brownish diary lying on her clinic desk. She wistfully contemplated its owner and origin, triggering a rush of recollections.

Ira stood behind the guardrail, overlooking the shimmering expanse of the wide blue sea and the small houses scattered below the hillslope. The clouds over the horizon seemed to have ceased their course to witness her as if her melancholic thoughts were heard by nature. Amidst the muted light filling the atmosphere, the breeze stopped blowing, becoming redundant and dispersed. As she contemplated her end, a faint clattering sound, slowly growing louder as it approached, disrupted her melancholic haze. Daisuke lived in Kottsville and fetched fresh vegetables and provisions from a city located some 80 km east. The nature seemed persistent about life. She did not expect him to stop and notice her. Why would anyone bother to understand why someone stood pensively over the edge in this indifferent world?

“Hey, excuse me.” Yet to her surprise, he did notice. Before she could drag the words out of her throat, he silenced the wheezing engine and asked, “What are you doing standing at such a dangerous edge, if I may ask?”

Ira stared blankly, still in disbelief, while struggling to decide between the true answer or just something. Anything. Instead, she replied with a question of her own. “Why do you care?”

"I couldn't just ride past someone standing despondent on the edge without asking if everything is alright."

“I guess I am just making sense of things,” she replied with a tinged voice touched by his sincerity.

“Do you mind If I join?”

She hesitated, then nodded slightly. As he approached, the weight of her solitude began to lift, if only slightly, in the presence of someone who seemed to genuinely care.

"Do you come from a nearby Eberthal city?" He asked.

She shifted her gaze towards the horizon and admitted quietly with a slight nod. Something deep inside nudged her to say more, but she remained silent.

"So, what's on your mind?" he asked gently, finding a place to stand firmly. He appeared slightly above average height with a slim build, clad in a worn jacket, well-used jeans, and sturdy boots that hinted at his readiness for any task. His face was defined by dark, thoughtful eyes, conveying both empathy and introspection.

“Nothing, I just can’t seem to grasp why life keeps battering those who are most vulnerable.”

“How do you mean?” He paused briefly, then added, “Could you elaborate?”

After a moment of reluctance, she yielded to the urge to share; after all, he seemed genuine and empathetic. She wasn't good at reading people, but he appeared to be someone who would listen. Her organs felt colliding into each other as she braced herself to open up. “My life seems to be a mess; it always has been. No matter how hard we try, there's always something vile waiting around the corner to knock us back down.” She struggled to find more words as if she had suddenly lost the power of speech.

“I understand. Life can be tough most of the time, but there's always a tiny crack in the door where hope shines through,” he responded, appearing to have carefully measured his words.

She looked at him, surprised by his insight. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do. Even in the most helpless moments, there's a chance for things to improve. It might take time, and it may not be easy or immediately visible, but there's always a possibility—we just need to hold on a little longer. Just a little more."

"But what if everything keeps falling apart and there is nothing to hold on to?"

He paused, considering his response. "The universe works in a way that some things must perish to make way for others to be born. It's like clearing away the debris of a home destroyed in a storm to make room for a new one to be rebuilt. Everything serves a purpose if only we could glimpse what the universe is up to."

Daisuke seemed wiser than his years, though he was only in his early thirties. He wasn't someone who ponders life's big questions or tries to appear insightful, yet his thoughts always seemed to align in a way that offered comfort and positivity to those in need. He simply couldn't stand the idea of someone crying out for help and him not being able to provide it. To him, it was an unacceptable lack of readiness.

As the day slowly waned and the light faded even more gradually, they continued their conversation. Daisuke always had an uplifting response to the girl's cross-questions and expressions of despair. The sun began to cast a golden glow over the town. The breeze picked up again, growing colder with each passing second. It carried the scent of the sea and a sense of calm. As the light softened, a peaceful stillness settled over Kottsville, mirroring the tentative hope in Ira's heart.

"Do you feel like grabbing some food?" he inquired, to which she nodded affirmatively.

"There’s a decent small restaurant about 20 minutes down the road. That's where I'm delivering these vegetables," he explained, gesturing towards the crates on his scooter.

She hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sure, why not? A change of scenery might do some good."

"Great. Hop on, I'll give you a ride."

"Are you sure it can handle two people?"

"Oh, don't worry. It'll do just fine."

They began riding down the road and eventually arrived. It was a charming spot, owned by a retired old man with assistance from his son, a friend of Daisuke's. He parked his scooter, untied the crates, and led the way carrying one of them. The place buzzed with the soft murmur of chatter, punctuated by the clink of cups, plates, and glasses.

“Daisuke, where were you, man?” Shouted Scott from behind the counter. “Did your scooter break down again?”

"Nope, just practicing my slow-motion scooter skills!" he said as he placed the crate behind the counter. "We are starving here and could use a good meal. Scott, meet Ira."

Scott turned to Ira with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, Ira. Any friend of Daisuke's is a friend of ours. What can I get you folks today?"

She exchanged greetings and left it up to him to serve. Although she did not have pressing concerns at the moment, she nevertheless felt reluctant to give attention and energy to such a small choice. The place appeared warm, comfortable, and well-lighted. Scott showed her a table placed near the window overlooking the quiet life of Kottsville. She sat down, taking in the cozy ambiance. As Scott started to turn away, Ira glanced at Daisuke, who was busy unloading the crates and conversing with a leaving customer.

"He seems to have a good heart," she remarked, prompting Scott to pause.

"He really does. Daisuke doesn't have many friends. He had become more empathetic and quieter after his parents met an unfortunate accident."

"That must have been hard for him." Her eyes showed a flicker of empathy.

"He had lost the appetite and interest in almost everything." Scott nodded with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "He found solace in his grandmother's care, though her savings barely sustained them both, he only had her. Until she passed away too when he was just twenty."

"It must have been tough losing her."

"It was. Due to their financial position, he never made it to the university, but he never seemed to mind it or appeared disgruntled. His grandmother was a kind lady who through the warmth of her presence helped him cope with many discomforts."

Ira felt a pang of empathy. "He must miss her a lot."

"That poor thing looked dejected and unable to accept that he had lost her too," Scott said, shaking his head. "It's been hard for him since then, but he always dislikes bringing it into the conversation."

"Does he have any other relatives in town?" Ira seemed to show interest and sympathy.

"No, he is on his own. My father was close to his late family, so he felt kind of indebted to provide a place to stay – a room upstairs in the restaurant – and a job here as well."

Ira smiled softly. "That was very kind of your father. It's good to see that he has people who care about him."

"I have known him since school, and I can tell the good in him has never changed" Scott then added peacefully.

Having placed the remaining crates at their proper spot, Daisuke casually approached the table. Scott exchanged a few words with him then left to bring their food. The place, which was filled with a soft murmur a while ago, became suddenly muted. Something else had occupied Ira’s thought, something that required undisturbed pondering. It somehow felt urgent. As dusk began settling over the town, it gradually lit up. Street lamps flickered on, casting a gentle glow that spread through the quiet streets and windows of its houses and shops. She had found herself enveloped in a swirl of emotions, unsure of their nature—was it a touch of melancholy, a hint of inspiration, or something altogether different? Ira left the place feeling grateful, her mind filled with new thoughts. A tiny ember of hope still burning within her.

She still remembers sitting in her clinic how she managed to push herself a little further every time she felt downcast. Deep down, a desire to persist lingered, even amidst internal storms. She continued visiting Kottsville occasionally, always greeted by its serene warmth. Over time, Daisuke had become infrequent in replying to texts or making contact until he stopped responding altogether. She resolved to find out what had happened when she saw him again. After finally completing her Psychology course, she decided to share her achievement and celebrate with them. Filled with excitement and impatience, she forgot that in this world, every brief moment of joy is often accompanied by a series of upsets. Silently, she entered the familiar doorway and waved at Scott, who was busy at his counter. After exchanging pleasantries, she inquired about Daisuke.

With a melancholic tone, Scott softly shared, “Ira, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Daisuke had an accident while coming back from one of his usual deliveries. He didn't make it.”

As Daisuke made his way back, carrying crates of fresh produce, the sky darkened with impending rain. The narrow, winding road was treacherous, worsened by the slick surface from earlier drizzle. Navigating a sharp bend, a squirrel suddenly darted across the road. Instinctively, Daisuke swerved to avoid it, but the wet road caused his scooter to skid. Despite his efforts, he lost control and crashed into the guardrail, being thrown off his scooter. The force of the crash inflicted severe injuries.

Daisuke lay there, the rain now starting to fall in earnest, mingling with the blood that pooled around him. His breaths grew shallow, each one a struggle, as the world around him began to blur. In the distance, the sound of approaching vehicles was faint, but Daisuke’s consciousness was fading too fast to hold onto hope. As the rain poured down, it seemed the universe was mirroring the sorrow of the moment.

Upon hearing the tragic news, for a moment, Ira felt blank, then numb, as if she was being sucked into a labyrinth. Scott, however, seemed composed and offered her a chance to visit Daisuke's room, where they had shared moments of both laughter and melancholy. As Scott opened the door, she felt dwarfed in the small space that held only a bed, a desk, and a few boxes. Scott handed her the keys and left her to recollect at her own pace.

The universe didn't seem fair, always plotting something. She felt stiff, as though squeezed between unseen forces. The walls seemed to inch closer, threatening to crush her, while the floor felt like it might swallow her whole. Whether she cried or shed tears, she couldn't recall; grief's intensity blurs such details. Weak and fragile, she found solace in a solitary chair. The desk remained cluttered, just as Daisuke had left it, strewn with papers and receipts. Among them, she found his diary—an outlet for his despair, sorrow, and heartache. In moments of unbearable pain, he poured his heart onto those pages, often musing that the universe always had a hidden agenda, if only we could decipher it. The tragedy of the human soul, he would say, lies in its constraints and the burdens it carries. The diary, as she opened it and turned to the first page, read:

“Today, I found myself contemplating life's journey, feeling as though I'm caught in a never-ending game where the world continues to challenge and shape me. The idea of making plans to meet somewhere far from goodbye resonated deeply, stirring thoughts about the path ahead. It feels like I've been skimming through days of old, and now it's my turn to carry the weight with all the courage I can muster. The notion of crying in happiness and smiling through loneliness struck a chord within me, reminding me that parts of myself arrive at destinations before the rest. These musings have brought me a sense of clarity and resilience, reassuring me that every struggle is a meaningful part of my story.”

Her breath was caught in her throat. The words penned by Daisuke echoed with raw emotion, each line unraveling a depth of despair and introspection she hadn't fully grasped before. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the pages, feeling like an intruder yet compelled to understand more about the person he had been. Tears welled in her eyes, a mixture of sorrow for his pain and a strange solace in connecting with his thoughts. Each word seemed to resonate within her, painting a picture of his struggles and his profound search for meaning in a world that often felt indifferent. She slowly turned to the last entry:

“I often feel like my heart will break open my rib cage and jump out to freedom. It's hard to silence it; after all, no one likes oppression and constant suffering. Sometimes, I dream I am running carelessly with a wide, joyous smile alongside my family, but then the tears flow uncontrollably. Yet these tears aren't born of disappointment. No, they're tears of finally quenching lifelong yearning, tears of achieving peace and freedom from suffering after an eternity of hopeless struggle. Sometimes, it feels like I'm losing the battle and courage is slipping away, but we must hold on a little longer, just a little more. In moments of despair, when I feel alone and dejected in the world, my cries seem to echo unheard in the heavens above. The winds of change shake the very essence of what I hold dear, and time's relentless march reminds me of its brevity. Like summer's lease, everything seems to have an all-too-short date.”

Shattered to read that such a helping soul also suffered and battled his darkest and fiercest demons silently, Ira leaned back in her chair, seeking support to steady herself. Thick, dark clouds of despondency and disbelief gathered in her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, waiting for the storm to burst forth. She sat idle, staring at the diary and the wall with blurry eyes, still unable to grasp the tragedy of a hero who remained undefeated on the battleground but met death away from it. If only he had raised the flag of help, someone might have played a crucial role in alleviating his suffering. Nevertheless, she clung to hope and resolved not to let his legacy fade. Overcoming her grief, she opened a psychological clinic in Daisuke’s honor, nestled between Eberthall city and Kottsville.

She was ready to fulfill her role at the clinic, offering a listening ear and a helping hand to lift those in need from their darkest pits. As she adjusted herself slightly in her office chair, she began reading the lines written on the back of Daisuke’s diary: “If you can alleviate one person's suffering or prevent one heart from breaking, then you have contributed your share of good. Just hold on a little longer, just a little more.”