The cold wind blew against my cheeks, making them ruddy red as I walked along the neighbourhood path littered with brown leaves.
A skip in my steps, lightly bouncing as I made my way to my neighbour's house, an aged man in his seventies', George.
He was a person who was grumpy because he was confined to a wheelchair, but he's nice. Everytime I visited his house, he may persued me to leave but when I insisted, I could see that he was happy that someone wanted to accompany him.
When I reached his house, I stopped walking. I went up the doorstep and stopped right in front of the door. My hands brushing away the leaves and dust that got on my clothes, making myself presentable before I rang the door bell.
I prepared myself to wait for a long time, expecting the aged man to move slowly towards the door while grumbling before he opened it.
Contary to my expectations, the door was opened not long after I rang the bell, was he waiting for me? The moment the door swang open, I said jokingly "George, excited to see me?"
It was not who I expected to see at the door but a young man. He had brown hair and eyes, wearing a green cardigan and a blue shirt.
His features resembled George, but the man was too young to be his son, so is it his grandson? It must be, I remember George mentioning he had a grandson.
" Hello," I started by greeting the young man who was still staring at me "You must be George's grandson, may I ask where is George?"
I passed the gift in my hand towards him, stating quickly "It's for George, I'm sorry that I didn't prepared one for you." The man didn't had much of a reaction, seemingly stupified. He remained silent, not responding to me.
Now, this is awkward. I thought as I flickered my eyes towards him and the interior of the house behind him, hoping to spot George inside. " Em... Thank you very much, Miss Samantha. But..." Finally, after a long time, he answered me but stopped his sentence halfway.
In order to eliavate this awkward atmosphere, I said "Have George mentioned about me to you before? And if you don't mind me asking again, where's George?" While saying this, I couldn't help but smile. That grumpy man actually talked about me to his family?
He became hesitant, soft-spoken, "Miss Samantha, the 'George' you're talking about, is it 'George Beckwell' my grandpa?" I furrowed my eyebrows, unpleased, "You don't even know your own Grandpa's name?"
"It isn't that, Miss." Then, he became more hesitant, his voice lowered, trembling as if dugging up a memory he never wanted to remember "My grandpa..." He sucked in a breath before continuing "He's dead since ten years ago, you were at his funeral, weren't you... ?"
The blood rushed out from my face, becoming pale white. George is dead? Since ten years ago? It couldn't be, I saw him just yester......
Wait, my head hurts. I held my head tightly in my hands as I fell onto the floor, screaming. I could faintly remember the panicked tone asking if I'm fine. The sirens bellowing and lying down on something coarse before I completely lost conscious.
I sat up in the hospital bed, silent as the truth sunk in, finally uncovered after many years of being buried deep inside my mind. My hands covered my face.
"Miss Samantha?" I heard someone called my name but I did not lift my hands to look at her and kept silent. "I'm a psychologist, Miss Samantha." I heard shuffling of clothes and a chair being pulled.
"From the statements of Mr Beckwell, the hospital can conclude that your mental state is unstable. Should you perhaps consider therapy?"
"Get out." I said towards her, I don't want to hear any of these nonsense now. "Excuse me, Miss?" My blood boils and I threw my pillow towards her "I said, get out!"
I don't know what happened next, neither do I want to care. I stared out the window, admiring the blue skies and the chirping of birds. "You like this scenery right, George?"
In someone else eyes, I may be talking to thin air, but to me, I'm talking to a person sitting in a wheelchair by my side, a grumpy, old man.